USUK Drabble Calendar: July 2014
by 365daysofUSUK
Summary: A drabble a day keeps you in USUK! The file for the USUK Drabble Calendar, the month of July in the year of 2014.
1. July 1st, 2014

July 1st, 2014 - Inspiration

**ARTIST:** fadeddglory

**AUTHOR: snowyfoxpaws**

**July 1st, 2014 - Inspiration**

Alfred stared down at his pad of paper, the colored stick settled neatly in his fingers, purple smudges across his palms. He'd never been a very neat artist, but what was the point if you didn't lose yourself in your work? Who had time to worry about how the color mixed on skin into a dull brown by the end of the class?

No, no he was distracting himself now, staring at the creases in his palm so that he didn't have to look up. He knew purple would be no good. No. Maybe something else? A sold, royal blue? Perhaps a dark green? What made him feel inspired?

He took a shuddered breath and placed the purple down, picking up black. He didn't normally use black, but maybe he would this one time, if only because the man who sat neatly on the platform reminded him of an old black and white photo, despite the fact that he was nude and had piercing green eyes and nothing at all about him lacked color.

Swallowing, he trained his eyes on the substitute that had been brought in place of their normal, female model. Sure, they'd done male models before, but never like this…

Never someone this handsome and…

Naked.

Normally nudity didn't really bother Alfred, but it was the combination of everything that really brought the entire thing home. He wasn't aroused, he was just intimidated. It felt like being stared down by a lion. Those eyes held a depth to them that you couldn't ignore, because when everything else was just a pale expanse of skin, that was the one prickling point of color that drew you in and no matter what stick of pastel he chose he knew he could never capture that on his paper.

So he didn't even bother trying.

By the end of it, he had done what he could. Really. He worked hard on his craft, so the life he had managed to put into this one was there. There but… lacking. He could tell.

"Alfred, this is great, but…"

His professor could tell.

"Sorry. Yeah. I know." He said, laughing despite himself and smiling up at the woman whom had taught him so much. It was easy to relax now that the model was gone, no longer staring down from his regal perch atop plain white boxes. "I know it's missing that… something."

"Yeah, it is." She agreed, her voice warm despite the criticism. "You've improved a lot if you can tell that on your own now."

Alfred grinned and rubbed at his face, smearing black across his cheek.

And he'd really thought that'd be the end of it, but a week later those deep green eyes were back.

Alfred had had dreams about those eyes.

He was nude once more, a different pose this time, shameless, face fixed into an expression that almost looked like longing. This man was a god at what he did, certainly, because even Alfred could see the effect he had on the rest of the class. Whoever he was, he was a cut above their normal volunteers, that was for sure.

This time he chose a dark blue, washing that painful expression into white paper.

At the end of class his professor stared at it and he internally winced at the scrutinizing expression on her face. "Sorry, I guess I'm just in a funk…"

"Hmm…" She hummed, looking deep in thought. "Maybe you've finally found a challenge."

"A challenge?" He asked, puzzled.

She nodded at him. "You've done extraordinary for the better part of the quarter. I almost thought I wouldn't be able to help you improve in any noticeable way this term. But if Arthur causes you so much trouble, perhaps there's some hope after all."

Alfred felt his throat tighten. "Arthur—?"

"The model." She informed him. "Well, I say model but…" She hesitated before, "Don't tell anyone, but he's actually a family friend's son. Our current model had a family emergency and I didn't have anyone else on such short notice. You all liked him so much I thought I'd ask him to come back this week."

"You…" Alfred blinked. "You mean he's not even a professional model?"

His professor shook her head. "Not at all. In fact he's an English Literature major." She shrugged. "Anyway, maybe I can arrange a private session, so you could work through some sketches. I could critique them later if you would like."

"Oh… Um, yeah. That sounds great."

Why had he said that?

Why on earth had he answered with that?

Alfred could hardly look at Arthur during a normal session, where he was but one of fifteen bright faces staring up at a stage, so it was a little baffling that he'd so quickly agreed to a…

A private session.

Arthur was looking at him, a cup in hand that drifted steam. It felt odd to see him with clothing. It felt odd that it felt odd to see him with clothing.

"Arthur Kirkland." He had said, shaking his hand.

"Alfred Jones." Alfred had managed to reply, taking pride in the fact that he hadn't stuttered.

Arthur nodded. "So would you like me to undress or…?"

Some part of his heart seized up at that and Alfred had trouble redirecting his thoughts as his mouth supplied him with, "Oh, yes. Please."

"Very well."

The classroom was empty save for the two of them as was typical on an early Saturday morning. Arthur disrobed and Alfred had a hard time setting up his supplies as he tried not to discretely glance at the strange, public display.

"So, um… you're a Literature major?" He said, trying to make conversation as he unloaded his sketch pad, the paper almost half as tall as he was.

"Yes, I am." Arthur replied, his accented voice like music to Alfred's ears.

"Why did you decide to, um…"

"Volunteer?" The other student was looking at him now, eyes glimmering in the light from the window.

Alfred couldn't look away. "Yeah…"

"I thought it might be interesting." Arthur admitted, slipping free the last of his clothing. "It is rare you encounter an opportunity to sit before a group of your peers in the nude." A pause. "And I rather suspect it might make public speaking easier."

It took Alfred a moment to realize that that was a joke and he had to stifle his laugh. "Not gonna care if you're up on stage in your underwear anymore?"

Arthur threw him a slight smirk. "I am afraid that that is a fear I no long need to worry about."

Things continued on like that and Alfred found he didn't mind the light banter as he worked on some warm up sketches, precision not necessary here as he found himself relaxing.

"Hey, Arthur…" He said, his fingers working deftly at the paper in front of him. "Was that really why you decided to model like this?" Alfred sketched in a long, pale leg. "Because it was interesting?"

"No, not really. It sounds like a nice reason though, doesn't it?"

Not expecting that as an answer, Alfred looked up. "Then why—?"

Arthur was looking at him, those sharp eyes seemingly peering into his very soul. "I like watching artists work." He said slowly, as though thinking through his words. "You all have such intense looks on your faces and I thought it might be interesting to have such a thing focused on me."

Alfred felt breathless. "Has it been?"

"Oh." Arthur smiled— a genuine one, his entire face slipping into something soft and fond. "It has been extremely inspiring."

His fingers moved before he could even think about it, forest green smoothing lines into textured white. In moments he had it.

He really had it.

Arthur's smile.

He felt his palms sweat.

He knew what he was missing.

"Hey, Arthur…" Alfred said slowly, staring down at his paper. "Do you want to go out for coffee sometime?"

Looking up, he found the not-model watching him with a coy smile. "Why not right now?"

Alfred blinked and glanced at the cup off to the side.

Arthur apparently read this look. "That, lad, is tea." He corrected carefully. "Not coffee."

It took him a moment, but Alfred frowned lightly as his eyes returned to Arthur. "You're lying about your reason for being here." He concluded shortly, not sure if he felt giddy or betrayed.

"I'm not." Arthur replied, sounding genuinely hurt.

"Then why…"

Arthur bit his lip, the motion of pearl white over rose red sucking Alfred in. "I wanted your eyes trained on me." He said again, cocking his head in thought. "I couldn't think of how else to get your attention…"

Despite himself, Alfred laughed.

And his professor later approved of the sketches he made with a knowing smile.


	2. July 2nd, 2014

July 2nd, 2014

**AUTHOR:** maplerosekisses

**July 2nd, 2014**

The walking trail had cut through the small patch of woods and curved around a baseball field, and ended and the edge of a street. It was blocked off to traffic and people were scattered around the area, elderly couples in lawn chairs, young parents dousing their children with bug repellent and teenagers wandering up and down the street — between the classic cars on display— in search of their friends. Alfred had promised a live band, and Arthur could hear them, but the stage was no where to be seen.

Alfred himself was beaming, always happy to see his people gathered together to celebrate his birthday. Generally, Alfred alternated between Boston and D.C. for the fourth, and this year would be no exception, but he had insisted Arthur accompany him to this small-town Independence Day fair a few days before. He hefted his backpack a little higher on his shoulder and tightened his hand around Arthur's.

"What do you think?"

"It's certainly something," Arthur said, but he smiled, because if Alfred was happy, he was happy. And it wasn't bad at all, even if it was a little unexpected.

Alfred pulled a blanket from his backpack and settled them on the grass, and then dug out his wallet and promised he'd be right back. Arthur settled back and took in the scene. From here, he could see the inflatable slides across the street, and several children walked by with American flags and fireworks painted on their cheeks. Some distance away, a petite girl with bright pink hair was clinging to the neck of a boy in skinny jeans and pierced ears, attempting to coerce him into carrying her on his back. Closer to him, a pair of older girls were sitting on a set of bleachers, sharing a funnel cake and talking to the young man stretched out on the step two levels down. A few people walked around passing out campaign materials for local elections, others brought miniature flags and pocket-sized copies of the Constitution, and a man and his sons stopped to offer Arthur a bottle of water from a cooler. The home-printed label read "First Baptist Church" with an address, and a Bible verse on the other side.

He was just twisting it open when Alfred returned, looking more than a little ridiculous juggling three corn dogs, nachos, a funnel cake, and a bottle of Coke.

"Got enough food, love?" Arthur asked, accepting one of the corndogs. Alfred sat with a small thud when he had everything settled and grinned.

"For now," he answered, taking a sip of his Coke.

After the sun had set and the food was gone, they leaned against each other to watch the fireworks. Compared to the extravagance that marked the celebrations in some larger cities —the ones that were attended by thousands and shown on television— it was a small show, but it still lit up the faces of the children, people sang along quietly to the music, and Arthur could understand why Alfred wanted him to see it. Alfred was looking up at the sky with a soft smile on his face, the lights reflected his eyes and one arm wrapped around Arthur's waist. Arthur smiled and leaned more against Alfred's shoulder, kissing his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Alfred."


	3. July 3rd, 2014

July 3rd, 2014 - The Raft

**AUTHOR: **thelillylilac

**July 3rd, 2014 - The Raft**

A small raft floats slowly down the Mississippi River carrying a young man with a wide brimmed hat pulled over his face. The night sky is clear and splattered with stars. As the raft quietly passes a small town, another young man catches sight of it.

"Oi!" he calls. He hopes his accent doesn't give away where he's really from.

The one on the raft wakes up, looks toward the other, and says, "Oi yourself. What are ya doin' out this late?" He starts to steer the raft toward the shore.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. However, I have no time. I'm being chased, mind doing a man a favor and giving him a ride?"

"Only if you tell me your name."

"Arthur Kirkland."

"Alfred Jones."

The duo drifted down the river, lying on their backs and looking at the stars. The night was silent and peaceful. Insects buzzed in the summer heat.

"Hey, Alfred."

"Yes Arthur?"

"Did you know that I'm a king?"

"King Arthur… Like from the books?" Alfred's eyes lit up. He propped himself up with one of his elbows.

"Yes, indeed I am."

"Woah! Really? That's so cool! So you have knights and stuff, yeah?"

Arthur turned his head to meet Alfred's gaze. When they passed a brightly lit town, Arthur noticed that Alfred's blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of silver frames. His blond hair had a cowlick in the front.

Realizing he was staring, Arthur cleared his throat and turned away. Silence passed between the two of them again. Alfred hummed a little tune as he pulled his hat back over his face. He laid back down. He seemed awfully comfortable and trusting around somebody he picked up on the shore, especially one who was supposedly being chased by authorities.

Suddenly, he said, "Tell me more about yourself, Sir Arthur Kirkland."

"Well, I'm from England, if that wasn't obvious. I'm King Arthur Kirkland, and, yes, I do have knights. I came to America to visit my loved one, who came here only years before. Um…I was being chased by a mob of people, including authorities, for supposedly scamming the entire small town."

"What's England like?" Alfred asked.

"Certainly not as large as here. Not as many kings either, I can't do much ruling in this country."

"What makes you so kingly? And if you're a king, where's your-?" He was cut off by a ring. Alfred tried to keep a straight face, but ended up breaking out into laughter.

Arthur asked in between laughs, "Can we drop the act now, Alfred? And are you going to get that?"

He pulled out his cell phone and responded, "I'll just let it go to voice mail and answer it later."

"What are you going to do now?"

Alfred leaned in and kissed Arthur.

"I suppose that answers my question. But I'm still wondering why you love _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ by Mark Twain so much."

"It's a classic piece of American literature, yo. You don't hear me dissing King Arthur, do you?"

"I was only curious, no more."

"I think you need to be punished," Alfred said as he shoved Arthur playfully off the raft.

When Arthur resurfaced, he splashed Alfred and said, "You're lucky I didn't hit my head on the bottom of the raft."

Alfred pulled him up and gave him a towel before saying, "I'm lucky I have you."

The two of them kissed again.


	4. July 4th, 2014

July 4th, 2014 - Fireworks

**ARTIST: **stephyhime

**AUTHOR: **cecemonet-alias

**July 4th, 2014 - Fireworks**

_Author Note: Intense fluff, Canon AU. Arthur finally decides to spend fourth of July with Alfred and does not regret it._

The silence that hung in the house was only broken by the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, and the ticking of the old, golden grandfather clock. The room was large, with white walls held up by the occasional wooden column, and a ceiling ten feet high. There were a few paintings that hung along the plain walls, dating back to the early Northern Renaissance. The floors were carpeted with soft, white material that had adapted shades of light gray and a slight beige-ish tint from years of use. A glass coffee table with a gray metal frame sat upon an old rug all the way from India. There was a leather couch, colored in rich brown and shaped like an "L" in the very middle of the room, facing a very out-of-place looking flat-screen TV.

The TV sat atop a small row of cabinets with glass doors, colored the same shade of brown as the couch. The cabinets contained three rows of movies, two rows of video games, a box with a bunch of chords and game controllers, a Wii console, and an under-used Xbox 360 with a Kinect attached. The old grandfather clock sat along the far wall near the only window, directly across from the only other seat in the room. It was a chocolate-colored chair, like the couch, and was angled towards the window.

Sitting in the chair next to the window, the only occupant of the house was curled into himself, his body all tense. He was completely stiff. Arthur Kirkland, the owner of the house, was sucked into a book.

_He aimed the gun at Maggie's heart and fired. A stain, like a dark red rose, bloomed through the silk of her dress. And in that instant, she focused, aimed, and squeezed the trigger three times. As she'd been trained to do, she shot the boy once through the forehead, then twice through the heart._

_He staggered from the impact of the shots. Life left his eyes. Then he fell to the floor._

_Maggie's once-white dress was now stained red—with her blood, and with his, which had sprayed her. There was so much blood. Who knew humans contained so much blood?_

Arthur's eyes darted over the pages. His hands were gripping the book so hard he was afraid he was going to rip it in half. This was what he loved about reading: even if he was safe at home, he could feel the excitement captured in the ink on the page. He knew what it was like to be at gunpoint—hell, having been through hundreds of years' worth of wars, he'd even been shot a few times—and even just reading about it sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. Questions flew through his mind like a flock of crows:

Was Maggie going to be okay?

_Doo wee oooooo!_

What would happen next? How would she get out of this one?

_Oooooo-oo-oooo~ Dooo dooo doooo ooooooo!_

…Was that the Doctor Who theme song?

It took Arthur a second or two to realize that his cell phone was ringing. He marked his page and reluctantly set his book down to go answer it.

"Hello?"

"Britain! Dude, it's me!"

When is it not you? "What is it, America?"

"Well, as you know, there's a super-special really awesome holiday coming up at my place, and—"

Arthur sighed and pinched his nose. "America, you ask me the same question at this time every year, and every year I give the same answer. What makes you think I'm going to change my answer this time around?"

There was an uncomfortable pause between them, then he heard Alfred sigh on the other line. "To be honest, Arthur, I almost didn't call you this year."

Arthur's stomach clenched. Alfred _never_ used a serious voice. Ever. The fact that he was using it now made him sound sincere, and… it almost made him sound heartbroken.

"…why—"

"_Because I knew you were going to say no."_

Arthur's breaths shortened. He didn't like feelings—he always tried to hide them. So when he started worrying that Alfred had gotten upset over this, the first thing he wanted to do was try to keep his hopes up. It was almost his birthday, after all. It was the one day Arthur had been avoiding for two-hundred and thirty-eight years. It was high time he faced it like a man.

"…Well, you're wrong."

"…wait, what?"

"You're wrong. I was going to say yes."

"…is this a joke?"

"No, I'm serious! I'll come to your birthday party."

Arthur could practically picture the young blonde lighting up as he heard this. "Wow, seriously?! That's awesome, man! Thanks, Britain! Dude, I'll even pay for your plane ticket! This rocks!"

He could've babbled for ages, and Arthur really wouldn't have cared. It had been a long time since he'd heard the American sound so happy, and it made him smile. Arthur finally got Alfred to hang up, and only then did he start to worry that he might've just got himself in way over his head.

—-

Arthur was surprised to find that he was flying into California instead of Washington, D.C. The flight was long and exhausting, and he finished his book before it was even halfway over. Disinterest in the movie selections the plane had made him decide to take a nap until they landed. He couldn't get off fast enough.

Alfred was waiting for him at the baggage claim, a bright smile on his face (which, Arthur noted, looked much tanner than the last time he'd seen him). His hair, usually the color of wheat, had been bleached lighter from being exposed to too much sun. The overly tanned fool was wearing some sort of sports jersey (Arthur never paid as much attention to sports beyond Football ("soccer") and rugby), a pair of cargo shorts, and sandals.

"Britain!" He waved at Arthur.

"Shut up, fool!" Arthur hissed, "I told you to call me Arthur when we're around normal people."

"Artie, then!"

"I hate you."

Alfred let out a bout of loud, annoying laughter. "Good to see you too! Which bag is yours?"

Much to Alfred's protest, Arthur insisted on getting his own suitcase. In response to Alfred's comment about the size, Arthur huffed at him.

"What? It's not like I'm staying more than a week."

Alfred shook it off and lead the way out of the terminal with a certain bounce in his step. "Dude, I know you're gonna love Cali, man! I'm having this wicked awesome beach party for tonight… you brought a swimsuit, right?"

"The only one I own."

"Ugh, not that old thing from the _nineteenth century_!"

"Wha— It's not _that_ old!"

"Might as well be. Dude, I'm not letting you go to my party in that thing." Arthur scoffed as Alfred tossed his bags into the bed of the American's massive pickup truck.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to wear?!"

"Don't worry, I've got something that'll fit ya."

"How?!" Before he could get an answer, Alfred's door slammed.

—-

Alfred nearly died laughing. Then, he nearly died from being strangled by a Brit in a bright green bikini.

"THIS IS _NOT_ FUNNY, ALFRED."

"Dude—" he could still barely breathe, even if Arthur had already let go of his throat, "It was a joke! I didn't think you'd actually put it on!"

"I was naked in your bathroom _with nothing else to wear_."

"You could've waited; I would've brought you the right one eventually."

"How else would I have come out here to _strangle you?_" Alfred was too busy laughing to answer him. He held up a wad of green fabric, and Arthur snatched it from him, growling, "Wanker." Before marching back to the bathroom.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow as he looked the trunks over. What was that embroidered on the left leg? Upon closer inspection, his eyes widened. It was exquisite work, but that wasn't what surprised him. It was his crest, and beneath it was the name _Kirkland_ in flawless cursive. Quickly, Arthur rid himself of the stupid bikini and tried them on. He made a startled noise when they fit perfectly. No gaps, no awkwardly tight or awkwardly loose places… Then, it dawned on him.

"I've got something that'll fit ya."

Alfred wasn't kidding. Somehow, he'd gotten Arthur's exact measurements for this bathing suit, _and_ had it embroidered with his crest. Needless to say, Arthur was impressed. He stood in awe, staring at himself in the mirror for a long time. He jolted out of his stupor only because of a knock at the door.

"Britain! Come on, dude! Party's gonna start without ya!"

"…I'm coming…"

This party was unlike any Arthur had ever been to. And he'd been to some pretty wild parties. (He made the mistake of happening to be in Paris during the anniversary of the Storming of the Bastille one year—_never_ again.) As much as he loved to ridicule America for throwing the loudest, most obnoxious parties, he'd never been to one himself. It was barely eight o'clock, and most of these partygoers were already drunk. He'd been drunk many, many times before, but never this early.

Besides, this time, he was going to abstain from having too much to drink. He would rather take in the party sober and relaxed than drunk and stupid. The party was held on a beach, near the pier at Santa Monica, which seemed appropriate. A lot of people were fooling around in the water, while on the sand a DJ had set up a massive sound system complete with lightshow. Arthur just hoped that no one at the party had problems with seizures. He barely recognized most of the songs played, but maybe he didn't need to. He wasn't apt at modern dancing anyway.

"Artie!" Alfred seemed to come from nowhere, two red solo cups foaming over with beer in his grasp, "Dude, I got you a drink!" Not wanting to spoil Alfred's mood by telling him he didn't want another drink, Arthur took it.

"Thanks…!" He shouted over the music, "Who are all these people?"

"Dunno!" As if it wasn't a big deal, Alfred grinned, "I kinda just invite a couple people and tell them to invite all their friends. Then they invite their friends, and their friends invite more people, and everyone just kinda shows up!"

Arthur had to let out a laugh. "So it's a Gatsby party!"

"You know, it kind of is! 'Cept I don't have a Daisy to throw it for." That grin ever present, Alfred locked eyes with Arthur and for an instant, Arthur could swear he saw something other than hyperactive excitement twinkle in his eyes, but it was gone before he could figure out what it was.

"I mean," the American continued, "I don't usually invite countries to my birthday parties, cos no one really wants to come, and the people that would want to come, and the people that would want to come are either creepy or my brother."

_Brother?_ It took a second to click. "…oh! Is Can—is Matthew here?"

"Should be, somewhere," Alfred shrugged, drinking his beer down and tossing the cup before continuing, "Hey, you wanna come see my favorite part of the beach?" this time, Arthur didn't bother to try to answer, because he knew Alfred was going to show him anyway.

Once the crowd thinned out, Arthur realized they were headed for the pier. Instead of leading him up onto the boardwalk, Alfred led him under the suspended platform. Arthur grimaced as they passed the barnacle-encrusted support beams that reeked of salt and brine. This is Alfred's favorite part? Just when Arthur thought he was going to stop, Alfred kept going under the pier.

"Where are we going?" Arthur asked. Alfred paused for a moment, falling back to walk side-by-side with him.

"Just down the beach." Alfred's voice had fallen from an annoying, grating pitch to one more mellow, and calmer. Arthur wasn't shocked, but he made a mental note of how much he liked it better when Alfred wasn't trying too hard to be heard.

"What for?" Arthur's voice was soft.

For a second, Arthur was convinced Alfred wasn't going to tell him. The American just smiled warmly for a second, looking down at the sand while he walked.

"I, uh… found out recently that we could get a better view of the fireworks from this side of the boardwalk."

Arthur nodded. He'd forgotten the American tradition of shooting off fireworks on their Independence Day. Judging by what he'd heard, the show was supposed to be better and better as the years went on. He would never admit that he was actually excited to see it in person.

"Right here! Come on, let's sit down. It's about to start!" Alfred sat down in the sand, gesturing for Arthur to sit next to him. Carefully, so not to get sand in his new shorts (or spill his beer), Arthur sat next to him.

"A bit early, isn't it?" Arthur looked at the sun, that had yet to completely vanish below the horizon.

"Nah, dude. It starts right after the sun goes down."

"Well, the sun hasn't set, now has it?"

"Yeah, but…" Alfred was suddenly interested in his feet. Arthur couldn't tell if it was the sunset reflecting off the water, or if Alfred's face had gone bright red. "I guess I just think the sunset is kinda pretty, you know?"

"You could've seen the sunset from the party, yeah?"

"Yeah, but… I dunno, I just wanted to make tonight special cos you're here…"

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. "But it's _your_ birthday, not mine. Why bother to do nice things for me?"

"I've had 238 birthdays, Artie. And every year, I get hundreds of people that come for the party, not for me. I don't want to get gifts from people—though I usually love the gifts I get—cos for my birthdays, I really only wanted one thing, and I got it."

"And what's that?"

"I wanted to spend my birthday having the best night ever with you. So no matter what I get for my birthday, you already gave me all I wanted."

Arthur's heart rose to his throat. His eyes widened, and he blinked furiously down at the sand. He tried to form words, but he was too confused. His stomach was twisting in knots.

"Alfred… How am I supposed to react to this? I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't bother," Alfred gave him a wry little smile, and Arthur could swear his heart was going to leap out of his throat, "It's totally fine, I just wanted to say thanks…"

"…god, I could bloody kiss you."

"Thought you'd never ask."

Their lips touched, and Arthur's brain melted. His limbs were numb. All he could really remember how to do was breathe. Was it love? It seemed too simple to be love. Or was it? Love was just wanting to spend time with each other, and they both definitely wanted that. It was the little things: sharing an umbrella, staying up all night talking, watching horror movies together, taking a long drive at 2 AM, falling asleep in each others' arms and waking up with his head on his chest. Little things like that.

Love was right there: the two of them sitting on the beach, watching the sunset, and forgetting the past. Now, there was just the two of them, and Arthur didn't have a single care in the world. They broke apart at the sound of an explosion—the fireworks had started. Arthur gaped as the rockets screeched into the sky, then burst in reds, whites, and blues. This was the happiest he'd ever been on a Fourth of July, and he never wanted it to end. Alfred, his glasses twinkling with a reflection of the sparks and his eyes twinkling with something Arthur couldn't explain, voiced his thoughts exactly:

"Best birthday _ever_."


	5. July 5th, 2014

July 5th, 2014 - The Wrong First Impression

**AUTHOR:** justa-fangirl

**July 5th, 2014 - The Wrong First Impression**

First impressions were important, especially in a world where the first words you said to your soul mate would be tattooed on their body from birth.

Much to Arthur's annoyance, his own tattoo simply said: "Hi".

It was just plain pathetic! How on earth was he supposed to figure out who his soul mate was based on "_Hi_". Everybody said "_Hi_". That wasn't a clue! It could be anybody!

In fact, it was that lousy word tattooed on his left hip bone that encouraged Arthur to invent his own unique greeting. He had no way of figuring out who his soul mate was from his own tattoo, but he would make bloody well sure they knew who he was with his unique introduction!

And so, ever since he was a child, Arthur had always introduced himself in the same way: "I'm Arthur Kirkland and it's my sincerest pleasure to meet you." Whenever he met someone new – be at a kid at school, a cashier in a shop, or a bus driver – he would use those magic words, and wait for someone, some day, to gasp and smile and fly into his arms.

By the time he was twenty-three he was used to the funny looks his old-fashioned greeting received, so when his friend Gilbert dragged him to a party one night he didn't feel too offended when his introduction earned him a few strange looks.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland and it's my sincerest pleasure to meet you," Arthur said for about the twelfth time that night, shaking hands with a handsome young blond man in glasses.

"Um…Nice to meet you?" the man replied, uncertainly.

"Don't bother using your line on Matthew, he's already taken," said Gilbert, wrapping an arm proudly around Matthew's waist and tugging him close.

"So you're the infamous best friend?" asked Matthew, turning to Arthur with a soft smile.

"It certainly seems that way. I can assure you I have little say in the matter."

"Aww, he loves me really," Gilbert grinned. "And I've been dying for you two to meet! My two best boys!"

Matthew flushed pink, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Actually, there's someone I want you to meet, too, Gilbert," said Matthew. "My brother's come to visit and – "

As if on cue, a voice rang out over the crowd.

"Matt! There you are!"

A stranger appeared suddenly at Matthew's side, and Arthur found his eyes raking slowly upwards, as if everything had turned to slow motion. Tight jeans, tighter t-shirt, toned muscles, tanned skin, brilliant smile, stunning blue eyes, soft golden hair…Arthur's knees actually went weak and he had to shuffle his feet to make sure he was able to stand up steady.

"The name's Alfred F. Jones. Nice to finally meet ya!" said the newcomer, grabbing Gilbert's hand and giving it a hearty shake.

"Likewise!" Gilbert beamed. "And this is my friend, Arthur."

He gestured lazily towards his English friend, and Alfred turned to greet him, grinning wide. But then something very peculiar happened.

As soon as their eyes met, the smile fell from Alfred's face. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened soundlessly for a few moments before he closed it and gulped thickly. Arthur probably would have thought it more odd if he hadn't been having a strange reaction of his own: Alfred was just so goddamned handsome he couldn't even form a coherent thought anymore.

"Hi…" said Alfred, sounding a bit dazed.

"Hi…" Arthur croaked out in reply.

They stared at each other for a few long moments, and then a terrific shout burst the little spell hovering around them.

"Oh, my God, Arthur! That's the first time you haven't used your line!" Gilbert exclaimed.

Arthur's faced burned scarlet and his heart hammered, half in embarrassment and half in fear.

He hadn't used the right words! Technically, he knew that his introduction didn't make a difference – he'd meet his soul mate no matter what he said – but this was the first time in his life that he hadn't said his special phrase, and it felt like he'd made a big mistake.

"Alfred, I've never heard you say 'hi' before, either" Matthew commented, thoughtfully. "You're always so particular about how you introduce yourself."

"You have a special line, too?" Gilbert asked, curious.

Alfred and Arthur exchanged a horrified look, both blushing furiously and looking away quickly.

"Uh, yeah," Alfred stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "My tattoo just says 'Hi' so it doesn't really give me any clues about who my soul mate is or where we'll meet. So ever since I was a kid I've always introduced myself with my name so that my soul mate will know it's me."

"Wow. Isn't that interesting," Gilbert remarked, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Say, Arthur? Doesn't your tattoo just say 'Hi' as well?" Arthur gulped and kept staring at the ground, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "Hey! I've just realised something!" Gilbert added in mock surprise. "Alfred's tattoo says 'Hi,' and Arthur's tattoo says 'Hi' and they both just said 'hi' to each other…Oh my gosh! Could it be?"

"Oh, shut up, you absolute wanker!" Arthur snapped viciously, flashing a warning glare at his friend.

"I guess we'll leave you two alone to talk for a minute," Matthew offered kindly, tugging his boyfriend away to leave a very awkward Alfred and Arthur in peace.

Eventually they agreed to go out on a date.

They couldn't be sure they were soul mates when their tattoos were so ordinary, but they had to at least give it a try. Luckily, there were plenty of other people in the world who suffered from having supremely unhelpful tattoos, so they weren't alone in being confused. Lots of people with matching simple tattoos like "Hello" and "Nice to meet you" ended up dating to see where things led. Some found out they weren't soul mates after all, and others never ended up meeting someone with another matching tattoo so it was obvious they were supposed to be together. In this situation, all Alfred and Arthur could really do was wait and see.

One date turned into two, and then three and four, and eventually Arthur had to stop counting. It was wonderful, really, and Arthur was glad that he'd slipped up and said "hi" to Alfred when they first met. He couldn't imagine his life without the man anymore.

And sadly, that was a problem.

What if Alfred _wasn't_ his soul mate in the end? What if tomorrow he met someone who had "The name's Alfred F. Jones!" tattooed on their forehead, and Alfred had to leave? He wouldn't blame Alfred, of course, but it would absolutely break Arthur's heart. He couldn't help but want Alfred to be his soul mate, even though he had no way of making it come true.

About a month after they started dating, Arthur got the call he'd been dreading.

"Arthur, it's me. Can I come over? I need to talk to you."

Arthur's heart shattered into little pieces, and when Alfred arrived at his apartment and sat beside him on the sofa, they pierced his empty chest like tiny shards of glass.

"Arthur, I need to tell you something," Alfred said carefully, as if this had been rehearsed, maybe even written out and memorised. "I've been thinking about this for a long time, and it's driving me crazy keeping it all inside so I just had to tell you. I know our tattoos are lame and don't really confirm anything, but I…I _want_ you to be my soul mate."

Arthur heard the words, but it took a moment for them to sink and for him to lift his head and meet Alfred's sincere, hopeful gaze.

"What?"

"You took my breath away when I saw you for the first time," Alfred continued, clasping Arthur's hands in his own. "And this month with you has been the best time of my life. If you're not my soul mate, then I don't want one at all. I don't need a tattoo to know that we're meant to be together. Will you…Can we be together? Forever?"

Arthur couldn't remember if he actually managed to say 'yes.' But it was pretty obvious from the way they ended up in bed together for the best sex of their lives that he was perfectly fine with the idea of being together with Alfred forever.

And, of course, neither of them ended up meeting anyone else with a matching tattoo because they had always been meant for each other.


	6. July 6th, 2014

July 6th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **animexalchemist

**July 6th, 2014**

It was a day that had started off like any other. Alfred, one of the 'Genius' members of Apple, made his way to work with the infamous blue t-shirt adorning his torso, his iPad in one hand and a far-too-expensive cup of coffee from Starbucks in the other. He made it to work only a few minutes late and greeted his fellow Geniuses before heading over to the Genius Bar at the back and waiting for any customers that had made appointments or those that he thought he could fit in.

The Macs were booted up around the store, iPods and iPads ready to show what they could do, and slowly but surely a steady stream of customers began to trickle into the rather minimalist but extremely high-tech store.

Alfred looked down at his iPad in which all of the booked appointments he had to take care of were listed. A Feliciano Vargas was first, needing help with his MacBook apparently. Sure enough, after a few more minutes, an auburn haired man bounced up to the bar and gave his name.

"Hey dude, how can I help?" Alfred asked, smiling warmly. Customer service is king, after all.

The Italian pulled out the machine in question and Alfred raised an eyebrow as he took in the red sticky substance all over it. Had this guy killed someone?!

"I wanted to watch movies and eat pasta, but I got my Bolognese all over it and now my computer won't work!" Feliciano explained, arms gesticulating wildly and it looked as though he'd start crying if the matter wasn't resolved soon.

"Woah woah okay, let me take a look…"

And so his day proceeded. Granted he'd never had to deal with a pasta related problem before, but he worked his way diligently through his list and found himself with ten minutes to spare after he had set up Time Machine for a scary looking Swiss dude.

That was when _he_ arrived.

A blonde man had entered the store, looking around at the tables sporting the electronic equipment and noting the strange breed of people who were here. He looked terribly out of place and completely lost. Alfred watched the man try to navigate his way through the store, looking thoroughly pissed off and uncomfortable as he steadily made his way to the Genius Bar.

As he got closer more details became available. The man was dressed sharply in a suit that must have been expensive because the cut looked extremely flattering and tailor made for his slim physique. Immaculately shined shoes seemed to glow in the light and, when he was close enough, Alfred's breath caught. This man certainly was, uh, 'unique'. Yeah, that was the word he'd go with. Because… what the hell was going on with those funky brows?

"You boy," the man said irritably when in hearing distance. Alfred stopped gazing at the eyebrows and instead focused on the unimpressed face of the customer. Oh wow, he had very green eyes… "I assume you know how to deal with this," he said as he pulled an iPhone out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Haha, you're British," Alfred said stupidly. _Crap, what did I say that for?_ he thought immediately.

The man just raised an eyebrow. "For someone holding the title of 'Genius', I expected a far more astute observation than the obvious," he said dryly. "Now, will you help me with this or not?"

"Uh sure, sorry man. What's the problem?"

"A… _co-worker_ of mine," for some reason the man hesitated on trying to put a label to the person in question, "Decided to get me this mobile for my birthday, knowing full well that I can't operate it. He also set the language to French and the blasted ringtone is the bloody French national anthem. I need you to de-frog this contraption and teach me the basics."

Alfred blinked before laughing. Well, that was certainly a new request. One 'de-frogged' phone and a lesson on how to text and make calls later, the man was in a far more agreeable mood and even smiled at him gratefully (Alfred had a feeling that this man's smile was a beautifully rare occurrence, and so secretly treasured it).

"Okay, one last thing," the man, who he learnt was called Arthur, said. "How do you turn it into a camera?"

Alfred shook his head and chuckled. It was quite adorable how clueless this guy was. "Okay, see the camera app?" he said, pointing it out and opening it up. "All you need to do is hit this button," he clicked it and snapped a picture of the store, "And you have your photo. Then tap here to go to the gallery and view it," he explained. "You scroll through by swiping to the side and- uh…" He stopped his explanation when the next picture in the gallery popped up that showed Arthur stood on a table in a nightclub wearing nothing but a short black apron and a bowtie. Arthur looked at the screen and immediately turned red, his eyes widening as he snatched the phone away.

"Bloody frog," he growled, stabbing the screen uselessly before grudgingly handing it back. "Show me how to delete it!" he ordered. With a little bit of sadness, Alfred taught Arthur the deleting procedure.

"Right then," Arthur nodded once the offending evidence had been erased. "This has been… educational," he decided. "Thank you very much Alfred."

"Not at all Arthur," he hummed happily. "If you ever need help with anything, feel free to stop by or gimmie a call!"

It was only after Arthur had left the store and was scrolling through his contacts later on that night did he notice a new number had appeared:

_Alfred F. Jones ;)x_

Suddenly, Francis getting him that damned annoying mobile was quite possibly the best thing he had ever done.


	7. July 7th, 2014

July 7th, 2014 - The Weaving Prince(ss) and the Herdboy

**ARTIST:** tsuki

**AUTHOR: **sweetayako15

**July 7th, 2014 - The Weaving Prince(ss) and the Herdboy**

At the beginning, the beginning of everything, there was the Sun, Moon, and Earth. Ruling over these three worlds was the King of All, a powerful being who had created these three wonders and ruled over the People of the Stars. After creating the fiery, passionate surface of the Sun, the cold, gentle look of the Moon, and the warm, silent Earth, the King turned his attention to making humans. As he worked, he noticed that he had forgotten many details of the Earth, as it looked bland and impassive instead of being the beauty he had dreamed of. Because of this, he called upon his five children to help him. The youngest being Arthur or, as the People of the Stars called him, the "Weaving Prince". However, Arthur's name was not always so, as he was named Vega at birth, for the King had mistakenly given him a woman's name even though this child was a boy.

While all the other children were given tasks such as, keeping the Sun burning to feed to the plants on Earth, making the wind to blow to make them strong, and causing the water to dance under the pull of the Moon to quench their thirst, Arthur was given a special task for making the Earth more beautiful. As the nickname the People of the Stars had given him suggested, he was gifted with the fingers that danced along the loom, and the eyes to see the beauty he dreamed of become reality. From the loom his father gave him, the Weaving Prince produced the daily fog, mist and clouds out of thin silk that dissipated at the end of each day. He worked at his loom every day to make the Earth the way that his father dreamed, working continuously from before the cock crowed till the Star Dancers came out and distracted the Earth.

Each night the children would return to their Father's home to eat and tell of their achievements. The Oldest Child told of how much power it took to feed the fire of the Sun. The next Eldest Child spoke of how much breath it took to make the wind on Earth blow. The next Children, a set of twins that were the same age, spun tales of working together to make the waters on the earth twist and turn with their pull from the Moon.

When it came to Vega's turn (as his siblings choose to tease him by calling him by his birth name), however, the other Children tuned him out, continuing on with conversations as he tried to speak. Only the King listened to his youngest's descriptions of the mists and clouds he had created and how they danced on the Earth or in the sky above it. Only the King smiled at the boy's tales of the spirits that kept him company and the whimsical things they did. Only the King was not jealous of his son's talents.

One evening, at the feast when all the King's children were present, Arthur told (his father) how he had made many clouds for the rainy season in his spare time. The King, being impressed with his son's use of time and talents, insisted that the boy take a break the next day.

"Well, well, my little princess," the King teased lightly, "you've been working too hard I fear. So tomorrow, you must take a holiday. Go out and play among the stars all day long. Then please hurry back and help me. I still need much more mist and fog, and many more clouds."

The youngest child was happy to oblige. He had always heard of the Milky Way, a river that his father had created out of stars, from the Star Dancers and wished very much to see it. So, the next day, the prince woke earlier than anyone else and prepared himself breakfast a lunch, though he burnt most of the food and nearly burnt himself in process. Once everything was packed, the youngest child of the King left to go seek out the river.

The river was everything that the young prince had imagined and more. There was no water, but the liquid through the river was silver and shone with the sparkling beauty that only his mother, the North Star and Guide to the Lost, had ever held in his sight. The sight amazed him almost as much as the feeling of the silver liquid against his body when he stripped down to his undergarments to take a quick dive in the liquid. It was cool, but not cold and felt like the finest silk against his skin. Taking in all of these feelings and sights had taken up all of the boy's attention, to the point where he did not sense another's presence approaching.

"Come on Tony, if we don't hurry we'll both miss feeding time," A voice rang to Arthur's ears, causing the prince to panic. No one should see a royal in such a state! Arthur scrambled out of the water and to a tree on the other side of the river where he had left his satchel. He quickly pulled on his under robe (the first of three), but as he reached for the second robe, he caught sight of what he first believed to be two pools of clear water. However, the pools turned out to be eyes only a few inches from his face. The Weaving Prince let out a loud shriek.

"Hello," the boy with eyes blue as the oceans on the Earth and hair as golden as the wheat that grew on the ground of the Earth spoke, "who are you?"

"I-I," Arthur stuttered as he tried to hide his face with his second robe," I am no one."

"You're lying," The young man stated very matter-of-factly. "Here, let me introduce myself! My birth name is Altair, but my friends call me Alfred. Everyone else calls me the Herdboy though, since I take care of the King of All's cattle down this road here," The boy informed the prince as he pointed down a nearby road that lead away form the river and away from the castle.

The prince lowered the robe away from his face to look at Alfred. "I…" He started, though was unsure if he should tell the peasant who he was. But the boy had a genuine smile, one like the smile that his mother possessed. The prince swallowed hard, hoping that the boy would not disgrace him by telling the other commoners that he had seen a royal in indecent garb. "I am… Arthur. But many call me the Weaving Prince."

Alfred's face lit up like a candle and his smile grew so wide that Arthur feared it would break the boy's face. "You are Vega! But I always thought you were a woman," He paused to laugh at Arthur's flushed face, "But what do I know? Hey, Vega, do you want to be friends?"

The Weaving Prince looked at the boy a bit to see if he was trying to pull a prank on him. Not even his siblings ever invited him to play with them; who would want to be his friend? But the boy continued to smile that smile that reminded Arthur so much of his mother's and he could not help but return it.

"Of course, Alfred. But please call me Arthur."


	8. July 8th, 2014

July 8th, 2014

**AUTHOR:** demotif

**July 8th, 2014**

"Slow down a bit, will you?"

Alfred looked over his shoulder, saw Arthur just a few paces behind him, and flashed him a wide smile. "Don't worry, we're almost to the next one!" Alfred called back before turning to face forward as they made their way through the main road of the amusement park. Summer vacation was well underway, and Alfred had convinced his friend that they needed to come here at some point and try all of the most insane rides the park had to offer. It was a typical stupid teenaged-boy thing to do, Alfred had to admit, but he had his reasons.

And so there they were, walking up to the line for their latest thrill, the "Power Tower." As its name suggested, it was indeed a tower, a few stories tall, that would lift up its riders to the very top and then, without warning, send them plummeting towards the ground. It was one of the most intense rides in the park, and hopefully it would be scary enough to get under Arthur's skin so that Alfred could live out one of his heroic fantasies.

Alfred had always made a point out of being as brave and strong as possible throughout his daily life. But there was just something about Arthur that intensified these feelings and made Alfred want to just rush in one day and sweep him off his feet. Okay, granted, he may or may not have a big and totally manly crush on his British best friend, and he may or may not have set up this entire trip full of scary rides just to get the chance to maybe hold his hand or something. But those were just details. Right now, Alfred had his eye on the prize, and the first step to getting there was making sure Arthur was scared.

And sure enough, when he looked over at Arthur, there was a fear in his eyes that Alfred had never seen before, and at the sight of it his pace quickened—not out of concern for his friend, although that would have probably been a more appropriate reason. No, Alfred F. Jones was excited because, finally, this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for! But he had to play it cool. This wasn't gonna work if it was obvious he was jumping at this chance. So he approached the subject slowly.

"…You know, you don't have to go on this one if you don't want to," Alfred said slowly, turning towards Arthur with a serious look on his face. All he had to do now was put in the beginnings of a pitiful smile and he knew Arthur's stubborn pride would kick in any sec—

"Of course I want to," Arthur replied just a bit too haughtily. They took a few steps forward with the line, and Arthur shifted to rest against the guardrail behind him, looking tense and indignant. An abrupt chorus of screams came from the falling riders who were now just a dozen feet away and Alfred watched as Arthur's fists clenched tighter around his sleeve.

At this, Alfred had to fight down a very strong urge to smile victoriously, so he just looked towards the tower with a gleeful expression. As scared as Arthur obviously was, there was no way he would back out of this now. And, sure enough, it wasn't long until they were strapped into their seats, side by side, waiting for their lift.

Alfred's harness blocked his view of Arthur's face, but all he needed to see were the boy's fingers tapping tersely on his own harness. He was still crazy nervous. This was Alfred's chance.

"You scared?" Alfred asked, the taunt clear in his voice.

"Definitely not," Arthur replied in a tone that could have probably convinced Alfred of this lie, if he hadn't known better.

Alfred felt his heart pounding in his ears, but he forced out a carefully half-hearted chuckle and said, "Why don't you hold my hand and prove it?"

There was a brief silence before Arthur's voice returned, saying, "How the hell is that going to prove anything?"

"If you aren't scared then you won't be holding on very tightly, will you?" Alfred suggested. "And if you do get scared you gladly can take it out on my fingers instead of digging holes into the safety bar padding." He shrugged. "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Suddenly, the ride shuddered and started to rise, which would have been shocking enough had Arthur not quickly taken Alfred's hand in his own at the same time and muttered, "You idiot."

God, it was so cliché but he could feel his brain turning to mush. An ecstatic, terrified pile of mush whose crazy dreams have finally been realized. Thankfully, it wasn't long before they were plunging to their doom and he could finally let out a happy scream.

—-

"See, that wasn't so bad!" Alfred said with a laugh as they made their way back out to the midway.

Arthur chuckled and rolled his eyes in response. "If anything, your vice grip on my hand was more terrifying than the actual drop," he said, giving Al a dry smile.

Those words made Alfred stop short. The hell was he going on about? "What?!" Alfred exclaimed. "No way, dude, _you_ were squeezing _my_ hand."

At this Arthur snorted, though his smile had made its way to his eyes and Alfred's brain almost shut down again at the sight of it. Arthur continued walking along, but not before he shrugged his shoulders, shot Alfred a teasing smile, and said, "Whatever puts your mind at rest."

After shaking off his embarrassment, Alfred stretched his stride so that he was back at Arthur's side, and even though they weren't still holding hands it seemed like the distance between them was a bit smaller. And, heroism be damned, his plan couldn't have gone any better.


	9. July 9th, 2014

July 9th, 2014 - You can Thank me Later

**AUTHOR:** seecarrun

**July 9th, 2014 - You can Thank me Later  
**

"I'm not doing it, Arthur."

"But Elizabeta—"

"I said _no_."

Arthur's face fell, sidestepping around his desk to (discreetly, mind you) chase after his coworker as she made a beeline for the copier. "But it's a gay wedding! You_ love_ gay weddings," he offered desperately.

Liz made a face at him, to which he responded with a weak little smile. "Your _ex-boyfriend's_, gay wedding, Arthur," she said slowly, as if he had managed to forget that sad, pathetic, little fact since he got the save-the-date six months ago. "Arjun knows me, we've had fondue together. He's a smart guy, he's going to know I'm not really your date."

Arthur groaned, all but hitting his head into the wall as Elizabeta calmly made her copies. "What on earth am I going to do?" he said morosely. "The wedding is _this weekend!_"

"Why did you wait this long to look for a date?" Liz asked with a snort.

"I was hoping I would have an _actual_ significant other by now," he sighed. "Buggered _that_ one up spectacularly, didn't I?"

Liz offered him a small, sad smile, before her eyes caught something interesting over Arthur's shoulder. She beamed. And not a good beam, an _Elizabeta_ beam "Well, _there's_ an idea."

"What?" he asked cautiously.

She pointed behind him, so he glanced over his shoulder for a look.

Alfred Jones, the blond-haired, blue-eyed American Adonis had apparently just arrived, and was seductively sipping at his (far too large) coffee as he turned on his computer, along with half of the population of the office.

Arthur had been more than a little in love with the man since they began working together two years ago, though the extent of their interactions together consisted of a few unattractive wheezing sounds on his end, and an inquiry from Alfred to borrow a stapler.

Arthur was an intelligent man, however, and one glance at Elizabeta supplied him with all the information he needed to know exactly what she had planned. He felt the color drain from his face. "Oooh no, you git, don't you dare—"

"Hey, Alfred!" she called, and Arthur felt his world collapsing around him.

Alfred looked up from some papers on his desk and blinked owlishly behind those sophisticated and alluring glasses. "Sup, Liz?" he asked easily.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" she asked, somehow ignoring Arthur, and the white-faced, desperate cut-throat motions he was making.

Alfred bit his lip and drummed his pen against his chin. "I don't _think_ so. I mean, I'm volunteering at the animal shelter Sunday eveningish, but besides that, I'm totally free. Why ya ask?"

_Oh my god, of course he is,_ Arthur thought miserably, trying one last frenzied attempt to shut Elizabeta up by knocking all her papers off the copier, but she wasn't phased, and continued to smile as she pointed to him with her thumb.

"Arthur needs a date to his ex-boyfriend's wedding Saturday night. You interested?"

And God save the queen, Alfred _actually smiled_. "What? Oh, hell yeah! Dude! That would be awesome! You seriously want me to go with you, Artie?"

Arthur made some sort of coughing, sobbing sound in response, but luckily, Alfred seemed to take that as a yes.

"Awesome!" he said with a beam. "What time should I pick you up?"

Liz elbowed him in the side when he failed to respond, jolting him back to reality. "Uh, f-four o'clock?"

Alfred grinned. "Word! You still live over on 7th, right?"

Arthur nodded numbly.

"Great! It's a date!"

Elizabeta's smile reached from ear to ear as she thanked Alfred and guided Arthur back to his desk, not trusting him to be able to find it on his own with that dazed look on his face.

She chuckled. "You can thank me later."


	10. July 10th, 2014

July 10th, 2014

**ARTIST: **carriecmoney

**AUTHOR: **carriecmoney

**July 10th, 2014 - Shameless**

Arthur sat cross-legged on his dorm bed at one thirty in the morning, dressed in his usual pajamas of vest and boxers and taking advantage of the darkness of his room and unconsciousness of his roommate to stare blatantly out his window at the dorm building across from his own. Below and straight across from his point of view was his new favorite view, a room where the inhabitant had raised his blinds to the roof the first day of classes and never bothered to lower them.

He watched as the shameless kid, facing away from the window at the moment and only half visible above his windowsill, stripped off his shirt to reveal a wonderfully muscled torso. Arthur hugged his pillow to his chest tightly and thanked every god of open windows and shitty dorm furnishings for this one thing to look forward to in this hell that passed as a university.

He'd told himself it was creepy, over and over again. He was spying, plain and simple, and he had no business watching someone else's private life. But, hey, it was the kid's fault for leaving his window wide open like that, and it wasn't like he spied _all_ the time. He didn't even know his name, just that he had a nice back and blond hair and a stuffed whale that took up most of his bed.

Below, the unknown kid crawled onto his own bed, sprawling over the whale and focused on something out of Arthur's viewing screen of window rectangle. Arthur took in the planes of his back for a few more moments, sighed, and went back to studying calculus.

"""

Arthur didn't have many friends outside of his major. It was hard to, when you had the same classes with the same clump of people and no time for anything but projects, homework, and studying outside them. The few he did have were more acquaintances than anything, people he could ask for help with a topic the night before a test or have conversation with in the dining hall. It was one of the less desirable side effects of choosing to be an international student across an ocean from everything he had ever known. Of course, the major desirable side effect of his choice was being across an ocean from everything he had ever known. At least his parents were more than willing to pay the tuition. They wanted him just as far away from them as he did.

That being said, while he might recognise faces and a few names, he was far from popular in his new university, even after a full semester of classes and speaking with a heavy English accent in America. He was becoming more and more accustomed to sitting alone on his laptop in his classes, even comfortable. Life was easier this way.

It also made people-watching that much easier.

Currently he was sitting in a recitation, the last class of a very long day of them in the first week of the spring term, playing Tetris and waiting for the two TAs at the front of the room to get their act together and start teaching. A row or two in front of him, a few computer science majors were debating the pros and cons of the card game parts of Pokemon, Yugi-Oh!, and Magic: The Gathering in a far too thoroughly researched discussion that Arthur couldn't help but smile at. Nerds, all of them.

The blond one on the end stood, still chattering excitedly as he pulled off his sweatshirt, T-shirt riding up with it. Arthur's eyes grew wide. He didn't realise his fingers had stopped moving until the blond straightened out his shirt and sat back down, still chatting away, blissfully ignorant, and he looked down to find he was two steps away from losing.

He cursed fluently under his breath and scrambled to recover, but it was too late. He lost as the TAs finally got the projector to work and started their lecture, and even though Arthur closed his laptop to take notes, only one thought bounced around his brain for the rest of recitation.

_I only recognise him when he's fucking shirtless._


	11. July 11th, 2014

July 11th, 2014 - America Don't You Cry

**AUTHOR: **** whymsical-for-you**

**July 11th, 2014 -America Don't You Cry**

England stared at the young nation before him. America hadn't responded to any calls or messages for the past few days succeeding the World Meeting, and the British nation had started to get worried. So, having still been in DC, he had paid him a visit.

He had expected America to be sleeping. He had expected video games, movie marathons perhaps, or a spaceship in the yard and a rude grey alien seated in America's living room. England wouldn't have been surprised to see takeout containers; Chinese, McDonald's, or even pizza boxes to be littering the floor.

He had not expected to find America a curled up, shivering, and sobbing lump under his sheets.

"…America?" he asked softly.

The lump shifted and England found himself faced with America's red, tear-stained eyes. The sight was enough to send his heart stuttering painfully in his chest. Soon enough though, the face vanished and America resumed his previous position- though minus the shivering and sobbing.

"Go 'way." Alfred's voice croaked from within the mass.

Shaking his head, England stepped forward and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. "America, tell me what's wrong?"

"Leave."

"No." England was stubborn. "Come now, tell me what's got you in this state."

A few more small sobs wrenched their way from beneath the sheets, though it sounded like America was trying to repress them, or at least keep them silent. Whichever it was, it didn't work. "I…" The rest trailed off into mumbles.

England lightly tugged on the corner of the sheet, trying to get him to come out. "If you want me to hear you, you'll have to speak up."

The whole lump suddenly rose up as Alfred sat, the covers landing with a soft _whump_ around his hips. The blond nation looked more a mess than England had expected. His hair was a rat's nest, Nantucket now only one of countless strands sticking up all over the place, and it seemed he hadn't changed clothing since the meeting. (England wrinkled his nose slightly- that suit had seen its last outing.) His cheeks were puffy and red, and a multitude of tearstains lined his cheeks. There wasn't any evidence in the room that he'd eaten at all, or even left the bed.

"America…" England murmured, lifting a hand to America's cheek.

The younger nation turned his face away. "I'm failing." he whispered.

"…Pardon me?"

"I'm failing!" America screamed, fresh tears dripping down his face. "It's all a damn illusion, I'm a horrible nation, I can't solve anything, I-I'm not…"

The breath left England in a rush. "Not…?" he uttered quietly.

"Not a h-hero."

It fell into place in the Brit's mind. The last meeting, things had heated up between America, Russia, China, one or two more of the European countries, and a few from Africa and the Middle East. Combined, they had all ripped into America, criticizing his every move over the past few years and adding some quite hateful insults to boot. England himself had tried to come to his defense, but America didn't let him, and the British nation had received some glares as he sat down. America had tried to defend himself at first, but after a while of getting insulted he'd…given up, almost. He'd started not responding and withdrawing within himself.

All in all it had been one of the worst meetings in a long time, and finally it had taken him, Germany, and Switzerland to break it all apart and send everyone home for the day. Some nations had left right away, some had announced they wouldn't be appearing at any forthcoming meetings in the near future, and the meeting had never re-commenced.

And there had been silence from America.

"Oh Alfred…" England said, using the human name to try and comfort him more. He shifted until he was closer to the man and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close. His fingers carded through America's hair, simultaneously providing comfort and untangling the knots there. The refrain to a song he'd heard on the radio came to him then, and he sang the words softly.

_"Rise to the top of the world,_

_ America,_

_ America, don't you cry._

_ Lift me up._

_ Give me strength to press on._

_ Rise to the top of the world,_

_ America,_

_ America, don't you cry._

_ Lift me up._

_ Give me strength to press on."_

America had fallen silent, and when England finished (he only knew those words anyway) he sniffled a bit. "Why?" he eventually ventured.

"Felt it was adequate. It's quite a nice song." England gently turned America's face towards himself and used a clean handkerchief to wipe his tears away. "And it's true. Don't you cry now, America. The things they said were unprecedented and unfair because you're trying to make things better, even if your methods sometimes baffle the world and you need a little help."

America lowered his gaze, shrugging noncommittally, but a slight jerk from England's hands brought his eyes up again.

"You hear me? There is no illusion, America. You're not a horrible nation either. You're new, you're young, you have mistakes to make and life lessons to learn. Just like all of us. Mmm, and even if you aren't hero to the world… You're my hero, for sure." England smiled a bit.

America snorted. "What, do I lift you up and give you strength to press on?"

"I'd say yes." England replied seriously. "You've done so much for me in the recent past, and I know you're an ally that can be depended on."

"R-Really?" America perked up the tiniest bit and leaned into England a bit more.

"Yes." England's smile grew as he nodded. "America don't you cry." he whispered, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to America's forehead. "Now, let's get you up and out of bed, showered, fed, and ready to face the day."

America groaned but couldn't help a small smile from forming on his lips, and he nodded. With England, and his words, he was just about ready to try and face the world again.


	12. July 12th, 2014

July 12th, 2014 - The Prince And The Savage

**ARTIST: **theconfusedartist

**AUTHOR: **animeXalchemist

**July 12th, 2014 - The Prince And The Savage**

Prince Alfred of Spades slid a robe of the finest purple silk on, not even bothering to glance back at the servant girls he had brought into his chambers that evening. He no longer derived enjoyment from fooling around. The women submitted too easily and were always sickeningly eager to please (they never did).

"Leave now," he commanded, walking over to the giant arched window in his room and looking out over the expansive palace grounds. He felt nothing. There was once a point in his life where he would look over the view and see nothing but possibilities. One day he'd be King; the best Spades had ever known! He would go down in history as the greatest Spadian hero that ever lived. Poverty would be a thing of the past and the entire Kingdom would rejoice and know only the finer things in life.

But of course, ideals die fast.

At first he challenged the biased systems, but they were always justified so logically and rationally, no room for morals, that soon it had been drilled into him.

Hope had turned to apathy which had turned to blind acceptance which, eventually, had evolved into expectancy. He had been educated to be a King. He would inherit Spades and all it stood for. He would gain this palace and all the riches throughout the land. The once hopeful child in him that sought justice had died a long time ago. He had been bred to be a certain way. Another aristocratic sheep.

He vaguely registered his door closing and when he turned to look some moments later the girls were gone and he was alone. Even his thoughts were boring these days. Being a Prince was boring as you had no real power. He couldn't wait to become the King. At length he dressed himself in his traditional clothing and went roaming around the expansive marble corridors. Servants scurried around here and there, but he paid them little attention. Even the servants he once conversed with when he was a child knew better than to approach him now. On his travels he caught sight of a flustered ebony haired man.

"Yao!" he called, voice authoritative, "I'm bored."

The Jack turned around and sighed at the Prince. "Your Majesty, isn't there something you can do to amuse yourself?" he asked, running a hand though his hair.

"There is not," he said, crossing his arms petulantly.

The Jack looked his Prince up and down, noting the slightly dishevelled appearance. "Your Majesty," he began, a disapproving tone escaping his lips, but the Prince cut him off.

"Don't you dare lecture me. I have nothing to do in this gods-forsaken Kingdom. The day my father resigns the throne is the day I resign my vices." The Jack was clearly unimpressed, but bowed his head respectfully even so. "Where are you headed?" Alfred enquired.

Yao hesitated a moment before saying, "The dungeon. A new addition is causing the guards endless trouble."

"I shall accompany you," the Prince said decidedly. A trip to the dungeon would quell the boredom for a while.

The two of them walked in relative silence and eventually they arrived at big foreboding doors in an isolated part of the palace. As they travelled down into the dark depths of the underground, only the occasional fire torch lighting the way, raucous singing soon became audible.

"I suspect that is our man," the Jack said grimly, and soon enough they arrived at a cell housing a man singing grotesque songs.

_"And I will sing until the Decks do fall! When the monarchy is dead and there's freedom for all! We'll hang the Kings and behead the Queens, who selfishly use us for their own means!"_

The man had an odd way of singing. It was rough and raw, and he rounded his vowels in a way the Prince had never heard before. The man hadn't noticed him and carried on his singing, only stopping his tune when the Jack cleared his throat. Alfred peered in, watching as the man slowly lifted his head and a pair of bright emerald eyes that looked as if they belonged to a wild animal bore into him. A slow grin spread on the man's face, toothy and dangerous.

"Visitors!" he said grandly, "If I'd have known I'd have cleaned up a little." He still spoke with that curious accent, standing up and coming over to the railings, practically leering at the King and Jack. "Do forgive the mess, I've just moved in."

Alfred straightened up, making himself look taller. "You are currently in the presence of the Prince of Spades," he said, expecting to instil fear into the man but the reaction he gained was a glare.

"Ah, a royal prick. Fuck off, you're not welcome here," the man spat, banging against the rails and making Alfred jump a little. What was wrong with this man? Did he not know Alfred's significance?

"You would do well to hold your tongue," Alfred said dangerously, eyes narrowed.

"And you would do well to get out of my sight," the man said with just as much venom, literally spitting at the Prince and laughing when he actually hit him.

"Why you insolent little—!" Alfred began, raising his voice until the Jack stepped in.

"Who are you?" he asked calmly, "And which Kingdom do you hail from?"

The man blinked before he smirked. "Arthur Kirkland," he purred, "And I have no Kingdom. I am a man of the sea. I shall see that all the Decks fall."

"How dare you say such a thing in the future King of Spades presence?" Alfred demanded.

The man looked over to the Prince as if he were an annoyance. "Death to the King of Spades. Death to all Kings."

Alfred lunged forward and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, though Arthur didn't even flinch. The King gazed into those wild eyes, noticed the dirty blonde messy hair, the powerfully slender form. Arthur Kirkland was an untameable wild animal and Alfred's blood boiled knowing of his existence. But he realised that for the first time in a long time, he wasn't bored. Arthur yawned and Alfred's grip loosened, looking at this savage man in wonder.

"Yao," he murmured, a smirk slowly coming to his lips, "I want him. My own personal plaything. A wild animal…" he felt his pulse quicken, "I want him. Clean him up and have him brought to my chambers."

"But Your Majesty," Yao began to protest, "You can't—"

"He is mine," Alfred said with an air of finality, leaning forward once more to gaze at the captive who was looking thoroughly disgusted. "My own little dog, you will submit to me," he grinned.

"I'll kill you," Arthur growled in reply.

"We shall see." Alfred turned around and moved to exit the dungeon. "See to it that he is presentable and in my chambers as soon as possible. I am eager to play with my new pet." He raised his voice, "I look forward to it, little Artie!" He laughed joyously at the expletive laden reply he received.

The Prince would never be bored again.


	13. July 13th, 2014

July 13th, 2014 - Moon

AUTHOR:faesphinx

**July 13th, 2014 - Moon**

Arthur, for as long as Alfred had known him, had had beautiful rings adorning his slender fingers. They were always tasteful, accentuating his hands, rather than weighing them down, but they were no less grand. The only times Alfred didn't see the other nation wearing them was on the battlefield, but he had a feeling they were always nearby- maybe stowed safely in a pocket, or something.

"Why do you wear those?" he remembered asking, back when he was just little, and wary of anything too material. He didn't want his England to be punished because he had such vanity.

"They are symbols of my empire," Arthur had explained, letting the little colony poke and prod at the masterfully crafted gold, the delicately cut rubies and emeralds, "All empires have had rings to show their status, even old Rome and Egypt. They are pretty, are they not? Now, come. You have much to learn, little one."

Alfred had given them no thought since that day. They were just a part of Arthur, just as his empire was. Even when he rebelled, he saw the rings only as they were meant to be seen; a symbol of everything Arthur was. Of everything he was fighting against.

And then one day, Arthur was bare-handed. Stripped of his empire. He wore gloves, trying to cover his now naked fingers, but Alfred could see where the leather had been stretched before and now sat oddly without precious metal and gems to support it. Vaguely, it occurred to him that the other former empires were wearing ill-fitting gloves as well, but his blue eyes remained focused on Arthur's hands.

Arthur seemed so much more drained after that. Drained, and tired, and too-skinny, but Alfred was getting thrown into his own quagmires, and he didn't have the focus to deal with Arthur's problems. Besides, Arthur would probably brush him off and grump that he didn't need to be babysat by an upstart child.

The years passed, and Arthur got new gloves that no longer showed the scars of missing rings. Eventually, he stopped wearing them all together. Alfred grew up, went to the moon, eating up space like a starving man at a banquet. He fought to keep his position on top, telling himself all the while that he was not one of them. He was an explorer, not an empire.

They fell together at long last, and everyone commented that they were surprised that it hadn't happened earlier. It wasn't an alliance, though- it was a special relationship. No one else would ever hold that title for either of them. It was love. True love; the kind that broke curses and made happily-ever-afters in fairy tales.

But it wasn't as happy as Alfred expected. Sometimes it seemed like Arthur was pulling away from him. He broke in a new pair of gloves, claiming that it was October and beginning to get chilly. He was almost always the first to look away, and Alfred could see him tense up when he touched his abdomen, but Arthur never told him to stop.

"Dude, what is up with you?" he finally asked one day. They were both sitting on the couch at Arthur's- Alfred playing Pokemon on his 3DS and Arthur knitting something that Alfred suspected was a pair of mittens- a Christmas present for Mattie, if the red-and-white color scheme was anything to go by.

"Whatever do you mean, Alfred?" Arthur asked, not looking up. The way he cocked his eyebrow told Alfred that he hadn't realized what he was asking just yet.

"You! You're all… wishy-washy!"

"If that's what you think of my knitting, then you can hand back all those lovely woolen socks and sweaters I've made you over the years," Arthur hummed, needles flashing in the warm light of the sitting room. The pattern was beginning to show itself on the mittens- definitely mittens- now. A row of tiny teddy-bear heads and a maple leaf. Yeah, no way that wasn't for Mattie.

"That's not what I mean! I mean, ever since we've gotten together, you've been acting… acting like…"

Alfred frowned, stymied in his train of thought. He knew animals well enough, and he should have realized sooner. The lack of eye contact. Letting Alfred touch his stomach, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. Arthur was relinquishing dominance.

"You've been acting like… I'm… like I'm… an alpha," he finished, nose wrinkling. He didn't like thinking of them as animals, but considering how very old Arthur was, that might not be a bad way to go.

Arthur finally looked, up, his green eyes wide. The expression only lasted a moment, though, and morphed into his usual 'You-idiot-do-I-have-to-tell-you-everything?' look.

"Of course. You are the superpower in all this," he said. He sounded so matter-of-fact, but Alfred could hear the slight way his voice wavered, "There are those who would even go so far as to say th-that you don't deserve someone so far beneath your position. An old, washed-up empire isn't e-exactly suitable company for one who could either destroy the world or completely rebuild it."

"Are you kidding me?" Alfred asked, flicking his game off without saving and leaning towards Arthur, "Who told you that?"

"No one," Arthur said quickly, his voice sharp, even if he wasn't looking at Alfred, "No one. I-it's obvious, isn't it?"

Alfred growled. He knew that there were names that Arthur wouldn't give him- not right now, at least- but that didn't make Arthur's battered self-esteem any easier to bear. He cupped the other nation's face.

"Hey, hey- look at me," he ordered. If Arthur was going to play this whole 'Oh, I'm so submissive and you are my alpha' thing, he might as well use it to his advantage.

"I love you. I do. I need you. And not just because you knit me itchy sweaters and make me tea and soup when I'm feeling like crap. I need you because- whether or not you're an empire now- you know stuff, and I don't, okay? And no one can take that from you. You know how things work. You know what it's like. And you know me better than almost anyone else. Do you know anyone else who can do all that?"

"No, but-"

"No buts! This isn't an alliance, Arthur. This is a relationship. It's not all dominance and submission, okay? It's not all about you giving and me taking. And, hey- maybe I like it when you're a little bossy."

"Alfred, you ripped away from me because I was bossy."

"No, you were controlling. There's a difference. I'm your equal, now."

"I wouldn't-"

"I'm your equal, okay?" Alfred insisted, "We can work together. Sometimes I want someone to tell me what to do, and sometimes I don't. And I'll… I'll try to be better at telling you that, and letting you do that, okay? C'mon- I know you like telling me what to do."

This got a tiny smile out of Arthur, and he leaned up to kiss Alfred.

"That I do, love. Now, I'm feeling rather peckish. Go get us some takeaway."

"Yessir."


	14. July 14th, 2014

June 14th, 2014

**AUTHOR:** actualcanadian

**June 14th, 2014**

Nobody had expected anything else from the cool and damp July night. The scent of rain filled every crack and crevice of the old Liverpool pub, mixing with the scent of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol. The soft fingering of guitar strings and jovial laughter filled the cavernous room, echoing off of the walls in a way that gave the illusion of the room being much larger than it was. Worn red bricks made up the walls, names, lyrics, quotes, and doodles covering most of them. The bar was made dark wood and was rough around the edges from a good few decades of service. It was a pub that was made of decades of memories that began during the First World War and continued on. The place was perfectly worn, not in any state of disrepair but also not obnoxiously new as to suggest it had just opened.

The people that frequented there were just as warm and inviting, a grand array of colours, cultures, political views, sexual preferences… It was the place to be for the Liverpool misfits. It was for that very reason that the pub was so vivid and alive. Everyone had their view and no one judged another. Political debates ran alongside philosophical discussions and petty gossip. One could find any combination of couples sneaking kisses, from the interracial to the polygamous to the same sex.

Perhaps that was what made the place so enticing for the British student. Here, Arthur could openly write whatever he'd like, sing whatever he felt called to, and flirt with whomever he wanted to. He had never felt freer than he did in the old, comforting embrace of the warm brick walls, surrounded by that scent of dampness and life. But it wasn't until that cool and damn July night that Arthur truly knew what it was to live.

It began simply enough, a man slightly younger than him (but not by much) had strolled up to the bar and ordered them both a pint. Arthur simply nodded at him, thanked him for the drink, and continued on with his writing. The stranger gave him a warm, prize winning smile as he downed the pint slowly and watched.

"I'm new in town," the man admitted as he leaned back against the counter. His figure was boyish, his smile resembling that of a child who had just stolen a cookie from its mother. "Found this place through a friend."

Arthur nodded. This was usually how one came to know the pub. Nobody else spoke of it, at least not in public, and in private the members of the outer community said nothing good. But the pubs community couldn't have cared less about the fact. "How're you liking Liverpool?" he asked, holding small conversation.

"It's okay I guess," he admitted with a shrug before laughing loudly in a way that made Arthur look up curiously. He had a laugh that was just as childish as his smile, filled to the brim with a mixture of mirth and a zest for life that Arthur hadn't felt himself in a long time. There was something about the stranger that he instantly liked. Perhaps it was the way in which he made the area feel lighter (or perhaps this was simply Arthur's impression, as no one else seemed affected by it), or perhaps it was the fact that, in an odd way, he felt attracted to the boys contagious excitement. Whatever it was, it left Arthur feeling invigorated but flustered. "A lot of rain though. Damn, how does this country even have enough water for all that rain?"

"Dunno. We just happen to be cursed with it," he admitted finally with a light chuckle of his own. He couldn't remember the last time he held conversation like this with a complete stranger.

One pint became two, became three, and Arthur could feel himself moving closer to the stranger. He felt…comforted by his presence, happier than he had in quite a while. If you asked him now, Arthur could tell you flat out that he fell in love with the silly blond American then and there. Yet, at the time, he didn't know he didn't know how to process this, so he doused these feelings in alcohol and sugar coated them in laughter instead. The two men were laughing slightly louder, movements slightly jerkier and thoughts slightly random, and Arthur was enjoying every second of it, his music forgotten.

"Hey, Iggy, let's go dance," Alfred said purposefully with a lopsided grin as he held out a hand to the Englishman, who was momentarily caught off guard by the offer. Dance? Oh dear, no, Arthur couldn't dance…

But those eyes were pleading and those arms looked as warm as sunshine in the damp cold night. How was Arthur to refuse such an offer when his mind and body were already pressuring him into the decision? And so, stumbling slightly as he got off his bar stool, Arthur allowed himself to be guided by the childish, happy-go-lucky American towards the center of the pub where other couples were moving together to the echoing sound of the acoustic guitars and the singing voices that rose like laughter. With a smile laced with playfulness, Alfred bowed slightly at the waist before pulling Arthur into a quickly paced dance that matched the beat of the legendary rock and roll song.

"They came to America once, yanno," Alfred said as he swung Arthur around, managing to keep the man from falling on his arse. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the other couples loudly singing the verses of 'Help!'. "The Beatles. I went 'cross the country to hear them preform."

Arthur was only half listening, barely able to focus on more than those warm hands in his and trying to keep his balance. _Bloody hell, how does he move that quickly?_ His palms were clammy, his face slightly flushed, but from what, he didn't know. What gave this stranger such power over his emotions?

"Won't you please, please help me! Help me! Help me!" Alfred sang with a laugh as they moved across the floor. He didn't have the best voice, Arthur noted later when he was much more sober, but right at that moment he loved it like nothing else. They stopped moving about, finally, as the song faded to an end, and Alfred discreetly gathered Arthur closer to his chest.

The next song was quieter, and Arthur was pressed to Alfred throughout the entire thing, grateful that they weren't doing much more than swaying. He could've buried himself there in that moment, lived forever in Alfred's warm arms, his soft breath against his ear, and, eventually, the feeling of his warm, soft lips against his.

In the arms of this stranger, fingers tangled in his soft hair and lips pressed against his, Arthur finally found his place.


	15. July 15th, 2014

July 15th, 2014 - Prison Vampire

**AUTHOR:** lilmayflower

**July 15th, 2014 - Prison Vampire**

Lying on his bed, Alfred just watched the stars out from his window. He didn't mind the prison he was in, just as long as everyone else stayed quiet at night and the other crooks mind their manners with the hard working police and guards.

The sound of the bell rang throughout the building, telling him that it was now twelve o'clock. A small grin appeared on his face as he started to get up, the sunny blond-haired man walked over to the barred window, looking out to see the courtyard of his temporary home as a gently breeze flowed through the bars.

"You look far too pleased for someone who's got put into prison you know." A voice sounded from behind him. Taking a quick glance back, he could see another blond-haired male in the room; the other had taken his spot on the bed.

"Says the vampire who breaks into said prison, you look just as pleased buddy." Alfred shot back. He moved away from the window and lend back against the wall, placing his hands behind his head.

The vampire smirked. "The last prison you were in had better security I must say."

"True, so true Arthur." Alfred laughed. It was interesting how Arthur always manage to sneak into high security prisons without anyone noticing it until it too late.

"Though I must admit, the food here is a tad bit tastier." Arthur yawned; He wished Alfred would hurry up and get bored so that they can move on to the next place.

Alfred nodded, though, he didn't really agree, since he wasn't a vampire, therefore he didn't have blood for food, but it made Arthur happy when he nod in agreement anyways. Though, he could see that the young vampire was feeling the effect of not eating as much since his arrival to this place.

To any vampire that had Arthur's abilities, this prison would be food heaven for them, but Alfred knew that the other dislike the idea of prying on humans that didn't get a chance to try and run from him. Saying something along the lines of the real treat he had was chasing his meals, pretending that they had a chance.

However Alfred did understand that, the thrill of his targets running from him, letting him chase them down with his chainsaw using all of his energy in his fun 'games'. Maybe that's why the two of them worked so well.

As the two talked the night away, Arthur could see the man had started to falter in his standing, showing signs of finally being tired. It had always amused the vampire how, ever since the man had been a child, he never seem too tired for a long period of time.

"Well, I must be off Alfred; I have a few errands to run while the moon is still bright." Arthur said, getting up from the uncomfortable bed. He chuckled when he saw the pout appear on his chainsaw wielding friend's face.

"Come now, don't make that face, I'll come back tomorrow night." Arthur walked over to Alfred and poked his face.

"I'm not making any faces." Alfred lied; he didn't want his friend to go, though he knew the other had to if he wanted to make it back to his home before sunrise. "Just don't forget to come back, last time I had to break out by myself and that was the one of the most un-awesome things in the world to do."

Arthur smiled. "Of course not. Just don't start the fun without me." And with that said Arthur slipped back into the shadows, disappearing before Alfred.

Alfred could already sense that tomorrow was going to be a fun day, especially since Arthur was possibly going to be by his side again.


	16. July 16th, 2014

July 16th, 2014 - New to the Neighbourhood

**AUTHOR:** the-literalist

**July 16th, 2014 - New to the Neighbourhood**

Arthur lay in bed, angrily staring up at the dark ceiling, arms crossed and scowl present on his face. The loud thrumming from the house party next door was causing him a severe headache and creating a colorful array of deadly thoughts.

_I've only lived in this neighbourhood for four days and already I want to bloody kill myself! Don't those idiots next door realize it's a weeknight?! Any responsible adult has work tomorrow!_

He glanced at the clock for about the sixth time in half an hour. 1:20 AM was shining back at him. His scowl deepened.

_I'm always asleep by 11:30 pm the latest! This is preposterous! I'm going to go over there and smack some sense into them, they clearly have no semblance of proper etiquette! No one has even stopped by my house to greet me into the neighbourhood. And now I have to deal with THIS!_

It was times like these when Arthur critically pondered whether or not it had been in his best interest to move to America at the age of 27 and pursue a career in editing. At first, he had been so excited for the opportunity because even though it would be tough work, he knew he would love every second of it (as long as he got enough sleep, which at this rate he WOULDN'T).

Throwing the covers off his body, he clambered out of bed to put on his jumper and slide into his slippers. After a quick reminder that his anger was justified, he stepped out of his new home and into the cool night breeze, where automatically the cacophony of noise from his next door neighbor's house became that much more deafening. Arthur grit his teeth, stomped up to the front door, and delivered a few harsh knocks.

He glanced about the yard and noticed a litter of beer cans and garbage. _Disgusting. They're probably immature university kids or something._

After no response for a few minutes, Arthur realized it was probably impossible for the party-goers to hear his knocks. He proceeded to ring the doorbell continuously while pounding harder on the door until he heard the latch, signaling someone had finally heard him.

The door opened to a somewhat-shocked face of a downright glorious looking American. Arthur almost took a step back but caught himself at the last second. This man looked a little older than a university student, so perhaps they were closer in age than he first thought. He shook his head and reminded himself why he was actually there.

"Pardon me, sir. I just moved into the house next door a couple days ago. I apologize for the interruption, but this behavior is completely intolerable. Do you even know what time it is? On a weeknight, nonetheless! I demand you stop this party and kick everyone out at once!"

The American man's originally shocked look turned into something more relaxed. He looked Arthur up and down once, then twice, before appearing to come to some sort of agreement with himself. A big grin spread on his face before addressing the irate man standing on his doorstep.

"Ah c'mon man! Don't be like that, we're just having some harmless fun!" At that point, Arthur chose to peak around the American to get a glimpse of this 'harmless fun' his American neighbour was referring to. There was a large boom box in one corner of the room, numerous couples grinding on one another in an overly inappropriate fashion, a table being used for a competitive game of beer pong, some rowdy individuals throwing an empty keg container around, and was that a blunt those blokes on the couch were smoking?

"…are they doing drugs?" Arthur asked while glaring at the American again, who then decided to step forward a bit to block the entire doorway with his body so Arthur could no longer see into the house.

"We're all bein' safe, so you don't need to worry!" The man stated happily, as if intrigued by Arthur's bitterness toward the situation he was placed in. "I'm Alfred, by the way, and I want to personally welcome you to the neighborhood! I think you'll fit in perfectly here!" Alfred said with a hint of amusement in his voice. He then put a hand on his hip and cocked it outward slightly, "I really like your Union Jack slippers by the way. Cute!"

Arthur blushed, despite himself, and turned his head to the side to avoid further embarrassment. "Never mind that. PLEASE just end this madness. I would like to go to sleep soon, if possible, since some of us actually have responsibilities and need to get to work early in the morning!"

Alfred appeared to consider it for a moment before saying, "Yeah, uh. You might just wanna get a pair of earplugs, dude." Just as Arthur began to bristle, Alfred continued "But to make up for all the trouble, what do you say I take you out for a tour around town tomorrow to get you acquainted with the area? I'll be your personal guide!"

That had been the last thing Arthur was expecting. "Um….I don't know…"

"Oh c'mon, please? I also know this awesome pub I can take you to, my treat. It'll be fun. I swear!"

Arthur felt his resolve steadily weaken, "Fine, I suppose.

"SWEET! See you tomorrow after you get off work, dude!"

"My name is Arthur. Don't call me 'dude'."

"K, I'll see you tomorrow Arthur! Sleep well!" Alfred blew a kiss to the dumbfounded man at his doorstep before closing the door and thus ending the strange (and slightly intriguing) interaction. Arthur then turned away to walk the short distance back to his house, not even hearing the loud music anymore due to the rapid thoughts firing in his head.

It wasn't until he was in bed attempting once again to fall asleep that his eyes shot open. _Wait. Did he ask me out on a date?!_

Arthur didn't sleep much that night, but he did have a pleasant time with Alfred the next day. Maybe he wouldn't mind living in this neighbourhood after all.


	17. July 17th, 2014

July 17th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **hannaadi88

**July 17th, 2014**

Nothing compared to the interior of the audience halls in Malkata. With their colorful tiles of blue and yellow and shining limestone columns, Alfred couldn't help but compare the halls to the stairways in Mittani or the large courtyards of Assyria and find the latter lacking.

No matter how lavish and bright the foreign palaces appeared to be, Egypt came on top every time in Alfred's eyes. Call him biased, call him a romanticist, but there was nothing easier on the eyes and more soothing to the soul than the scent and sight of home.

However pretty the halls were, the throne room was absolutely magnificent. The paintings on the walls greeted him with their raised arms as he approached the dais. He knelt on the floor, relishing the feel of the cool stone against the desert heat. As he was allowed to rise, Alfred couldn't help but notice the fresh coat of paint applied to the painted birds on the ceiling.

The rich red was more vibrant than ever, but it paled in contrast to the emerald green of the pharaoh's eyes. The throne room was magnificent, yes, but what made it so wasn't the polished wooden table of the vizier.

No, it was the pharaoh himself, who shone like the rising sun he personified.

"General," the pharaoh addressed him with a nod. "You're back early."

Alfred bowed his head. "That I am, your highness. My mission ended sooner than expected."

The pharaoh exchanged a glance with the vizier. "I take it you return with good news?"

The smile that shaped Alfred's lips stretched widely across his features. "The very best. There will be no war with Hatti, pharaoh."

Every tense moment, every heated discussion, every sleepless night Alfred had endured during his mission was worth the beaming smile he got in return. "Excellent work, general. You have my gratitude."

Excited whispers followed by joyful clapping filled the room as members of the court paused from their games of senet and cheered. Alfred inclined his head, acknowledging the crowd, but he could feel a set of kohl rimmed eyes on his back.

"Congratulations, general," the queen addressed him crisply from the adjacent throne. Alfred turned to face her and bowed deeply, carefully monitoring his smile.

"Thank you, your majesty."

When he looked up, he noticed the pharaoh's heavy gaze studying him, not unlike the way he observed him the morning Alfred had left for Hatti.

_"Must you leave so early? It's not yet dawn."_

_Alfred raised his eyes from his belt and ran them over the bare form on his bed, smooth legs still tangled in the cotton sheets and fair hair tousled from sleep. His usually sharp face looked vulnerable without his tall headdress and his voice was rough from the night before._

_He had to fight the urge to drop everything and rejoin his lover on the pillows._

_"You know as well as I that this is the best time to depart, your highness," Alfred gave the man a wistful look as he sat back down on the bed, bending down to tie his sandals._

_His hand was grabbed and pulled at. When Alfred turned his head, he was met with a pair of lips pressed urgently against his own. He raised his hand to cup the other's cheek, but the man pulled away before he could be touched._

_"Don't call me that when we're alone, Alfred. You know my name."_

_Alfred smiled, but shook his head._

_"Go on, say it. I command you."_

_"Arthur, I have to go." His arm was released and Alfred stood up, meeting the other's eyes for a long moment before falling to his knees and taking Arthur's palm in his hands and kissing the back, brushing his mouth against the pharaoh's knuckles._

_"I won't fail you."_

"General," the pharaoh said quietly, raising a brow. "Have you been listening?"

Alfred could feel his face burn in embarrassment at being caught daydreaming. "I apologize, your highness. I was lost in thought."

The man smiled at him knowingly. "You're forgiven. When you've rested from your travels, report to my rooms. I would like to go over the details of the treaty with you."

Alfred found himself on the floor once more, kneeling before acting on his dismissal. He rose quickly to his feet and turned to leave, resisting looking over his shoulder at his sovereign.

He'd have enough time to memorize his features later that night, after all.


	18. July 18th, 2014

July 18th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **jojoandpicnic97

**July 18th, 2014**

"Oh, _wow_, England, look," America cried as he pointed at the gates far away from where they were standing, "It's _Disneyland_!" He was bomber-jacket-less as it was a particularly hot July day and England tried to look anywhere but at America's defined muscles.

To do exactly that, England rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I see." Honestly, England had no clue as to why this was so important. Sure, Walt Disney had made some fine propaganda for the war and is a terrific movie-maker, but, honestly, how well did he make this theme park? If you asked England, he would say that Disney was pushing his luck for trying to make a theme park – surely that man would go bankrupt again someday! "Remind me again, America, why you didn't come here yesterday for the grand opening?"

America looked back from where he was (a few paces in front of his Brit companion) and said, "_Because_ I forgot. Like, I totally had an invitation and _everything_ but I forgot. Besides, you weren't here to experience the magic with me _and_ I caught a glimpse of the live feed that this place was having yesterday and it looked like such a mess! Hahahaha!" He continued to laugh that obnoxious laugh that England would begrudgingly admit to liking.

However, the Brit wasn't thinking about how much he loved that laugh at the moment. No, he was thinking about how the vein in his forehead was going to pop soon. "If it looked like a mess, why are we still going?"

The American laughed more. "'Cause it's hero-like to give things second chances!" He fell back in place with his green-eyed special-relationship-friend and slung his arm over England's shoulder. "'Sides, flutter bum, you've had that stick up your ass for a decade now. You gotta have fun sometime and this is gonna be a big tickle!" He steered the Brit over to the ticket booth and stepped into line. They were silent as they purchased their ticket books, minus America exclaiming that the C-ticket rides must be a blast compared to A-ticket rides.

After paying the admission fee, the two friends walked into the park and past the front tunnels. Immediately, they were bombarded with colors and sounds and smells. The sight of Mickey Mouse surrounded by children greeted his eyes, there were laughs invading England's ears from all around, and the smells of fried chicken and ice cream flooded his nose.

And then Arthur saw _him_. He stood there proudly, watching people run around with an insane amount of jubilance in his brown eyes. As his sparkling eyes made another sweep across Main Street U.S.A, he spotted them. "Mr. Jones," he called as he made his way over.

Alfred smiled brilliantly. "Oh, there you are," he said. "I was looking for you. Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday. But, hey, I brought my friend along." He gestured to England at his side.

"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur introduced, holding his hand out.

The other man took it; his eyes were alight with a whimsical air. "Walter Disney; call me 'Walt.'" He smiled warmly and dropped his hand back to his side as England did the same.

"Today, Mr. Kirkland, this grand day of July the eighteenth in the year one thousand nine hundred and fifty-five, I wish you have an absolutely magical day in my kingdom where dreams come true." The Brit suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the cheesiness of the obvious self-promotion.

America hooked his arm around his companion's shoulder once more and waved Walt Disney off with a, "Will do, Walt!"


	19. July 19th, 2014

July 19th, 2014 - Hair Cuts And Jealousy

**AUTHOR: **seductive-tonia

**July 19th, 2014 - Hair Cuts And Jealousy**

America wasn't jealous. At least, that's what he tried to tell himself. No, he was not jealous, at all.

And who was it that he was so not jealous of? It was France. More specifically, France being the go-to hairstylist for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. AKA, England. AKA, Arthur Kirkland. AKA, Alfred's boyfriend. Alfred's, not Francis's.

In fact, England hated France. America didn't understand why England would let France cut his hair, and not him…or a professional stylist.

When asked, England simply stated that France had been doing his hair for centuries, that America wouldn't understand.

Alfred was not having that.

So the next month, when Britain was getting ready to go over to France's for a few hours, to pick up some food and get his hair cut, America stopped him.

"Oh, no. No, you don't." He argued, putting his hand on Arthur's chest to stop him.

"Wha- why?" He asked, confused that America was dragging him back into the house, into the bathroom.

"Because I'm gonna cut your hair." He grinned, triumphantly.

"You? Darling, do you even know how to cut hair?"

"Sure I do, sweetheart!" He grinned wider. "Just sit back. I got this."

Arthur just sighed, since it was obvious Alfred wasn't going to let him go, and let Alfred drape a towel around his neck, chest, back and shoulders.

Alfred brought out the scissors. Arthur cringed.

_[about 3 minutes later]_

"Arthur, I'm sorry!"

"It looks horrible!" Arthur exclaims, distressed, looking at the mess that's his hair in the mirror.

"It's not that bad…honey, I think you look great." Alfred tried.

"Alfred!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Why couldn't you have just let me go to France's? Why did you have to force me in here and give me a stupid haircut?" Arthur groaned.

"'Cause."

"Because what, Alfred?!" Arthur asked, enraged.

"Because I was jealous!" Alfred stood, looking at Arthur, his face red. "I don't like that you trust France with you more than you trust me!"

Arthur just stared at him for a moment, before leaning up and kissing him.

Alfred looked surprised, but his eyelids fluttered shut and he kissed back.

"Darling, I do trust you. Much more than I trust France."

"You don't mean that. You're just saying it."

"Yes, I do mean it. France just knows how to cut hair. But, if it means that much you- I'll go to a barber."

"Nah. Just…go to France. I don't mind."

"Are you sure, poppet?" Arthur asked, gently.

"I'm sure. I'm not that jealous anymore, anyway. This is sort of stupid." Alfred chuckled.

Arthur smiled and kissed him. "I'll be back in a few hours. I'll bring home some food, alright?"

"I love you." Alfred mumbled against Arthur's lips.

"And I love you." Arthur replies, smiling sweetly, then walking out the door.

And he wasn't so jealous, anymore. For real, this time.


	20. July 20th, 2014

July 20th, 2014 - A Magical Surprise

**AUTHOR: **atlas-workbench

**July 20th, 2014 - A Magical Surprise**

"I've got a surprise for you Arthur," was all the American had said before the duo were whisked away into a car bound for goodness-knows-where Florida.

England had groused and complained but even he enjoyed the simple pleasures of driving endlessly with America. They talked idly the whole time about this and that, listening to mostly good music. Yet every time England tried to steer the conversation toward the surprise, America would absolutely clam up and say nothing.

They passed the many exits for Disney World – for which England was silently relieved – he could only take so much of "It's A Small World" in a day and although his pavilion at EPCOT was shaping up quite well he was unbearably close to France there.

It was only when they pulled up to the Universal Studios Orlando theme park that England let himself be disappointed. It was probably just some new technology that America was really excited about that he was being drug along to see.

Despite his thick-headedness at times, America caught the downturn in emotions almost immediately.

"Hey sour puss, don't be like that," he said. "This is going to be awesome!" Quickly America rifled through his pockets before triumphantly presenting England with a blindfold.

"Do you trust me?" said America. They both knew it was a bad choice of words the minute they were said given the proffered blindfold.

Quickly backpedaling over England's hesitation and situation in general America said, "It'll be better for the surprise – no peaking and all that … or you could just look at the ground the whole time – but you've got to promise not to peek!"

"I promise Alfred. I truly do," said England. He plucked the blindfold out of the other's hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Righto!" said America with a sigh of relief. "Let's go!"

So England dutifully followed behind America as they made their way from the far edges of the parking lot to the front entrance. He didn't look up as America somehow got out of paying for their tickets nor did he peek at anything at all. He focused exclusively on the pavement as it changed from area to area as they walked slowly along in the nearly evening light. At least there were many different types of shoes to look at. England never understood how some women wore heels to waking intensive places like this.

In a remarkably short period of time the number of shoes England could see were clearing out exponentially.

Before long they were stopped just in front of a gate. America was positively thrumming with excitement now.

"Ok Arthur," said America. "Look up."

He did and he couldn't believe it.

There, in picture perfect fashion, was his own little Harry Potter Land. The gates divided them but he could distinctly see the makings of Diagon Ally and Hogsmeade and the train station and the looming castle in the background.

When the shock finally wore off he realized America had been babbling to him the whole time.

"I've been trying really hard to keep the whole thing hush-hush from you so you'd be surprised," said America. "It's just going to keep getting better and better you know. I'm expecting you to help me out too…I might have read the books a thousand times over to try and get the details but there's no denying that this is so much a part of you that you'll probably always know it better then I do."

"I wouldn't say that," said England.

"I'm serious Arthur – you say there's one thing wrong with the place and I'll fix it myself if I have to."

As touching as the thought was England needed to get beyond the gates.

"Let's go inside," said England. He snatched America's hand right after the gates were carefully unlocked and shut behind them.

By the time they had toured the place, England couldn't be more gleeful – it was even better then being on set really … on a set you could see where the set ended, where the magic stopped. Here … even though things weren't quite done, it was an all-encompassing experience.

"Can we ride any of the rides?" said England. "Surely there must be rides. It is not enough for people to just bask in the glory of storybook architecture come to life anymore."

America deflated a lot at that.

"They aren't done yet," said America. "I just got too excited and had to show you early so no one ruined the surprise. There's going to be so many people here when it opens I figured I'd show it to you now so you can get a good look at it – and change anything if you wanted to … just say the word and it will be done."

"Alfred this is brilliant," said England. "I only wish that it were in my home and not yours. I guess that means I will just have to visit you more often now."

"I was waiting for you to build one," said America. "I figured … with each new movie someone would come out and say they were building something. But I got sick of waiting. Originally I wanted to have a full-on theme park just for this – everyone kind of talked me out of it though. I have to save something for you after all. So this will be the mock up and you can do it right."

"Don't hold your breath on that Alfred," said England. "Keep improving this one – relish in what we have in the here and now."

As soon as the sun went behind the castle darkness started to fall quickly.

"The park is closing soon and we can't stay long but I want to show you the inside of Three Broomsticks," said America. "The cooks are working on the food still but the butterbeer is done. We have to try it before we leave."

England dallied in the entryway as America bustled off to the kitchens. The place wasn't done yet but he could see the makings of more fun inside to help complete the magic in the area.

"Here," said America passing over an etched glass stein brimming with frothy amber liquid. "I figured you'd chew me out if I went with the plastic cups so I borrowed some mockups from the gift shop, er … Dervish and Bangles."

"Cheers," said England. "Thank you for the wonderful surprise."

The sentiment only increased soon after when America smiled back at England, foam mustache and all.

X

_**Author's Notes:** Curse you sadisticbrit for bemoaning that Harry Potter World isn't in England. Why must you give me ideas when I don't have time for them? It also doesn't help that I've been thinking about the new additions to the Wonderful Wizarding World of Harry Potter that are in process/done (depending on when this gets published). Lastly, sorry about the blindfold thing – Alfred picked the wrong time to channel his inner Aladdin and I'm sure for many nations the blindfold + "surprise" scenario has probably ended poorly more often then not._


	21. July 21st, 2014

July 21st, 2014 - Emotions Never Lie

**AUTHOR: **the-literalist

**July 21st, 2014 - Emotions Never Lie**

Every person experiences a specific emotion for every individual they meet, before they've even spoken to each other. The feelings range from burning resentment to intense love and admiration. People who meet each other with compatible qualities for a future friendship will experience a serene sort of contentment and fondness. People with a mutually volatile propensity immediately are overtaken by tense discomfort and anger.

Arthur, for one, had always been quite keen to his internal emotional responses toward others. During childhood, Arthur had had the displeasure of encountering Francis Bonnefoy; the explosive heat pooling in his head and chest was so great he had gotten into a violent fight with the older French boy seconds after they met. At the age of 14 Arthur had met Kiku Honda, a Japanese teenager, he began to feel a bright sense of understanding and connection throughout his body, and so he knew Kiku would become a great companion of his. And so it went; for every person Arthur came into contact with, he would experience a specific feeling which would inform him of his compatibility with the other person, and vice versa. It grew somewhat meddlesome when forced to meet a big group of people at once, but after a while everyone just learned how to deal with it.

It was when Arthur turned 16 that he accidentally collided into a new student at his school. After regaining his composure, Arthur glanced up at the young man's face.

Eye contact was made. And then Arthur felt it. It was something he had never felt before, almost like his entire body was overwhelmed with heated passion that pooled from his head to his toes, but now what did_ this_ mean? The fiery feeling was almost like what he felt when he was around Francis, but this emotion just felt _different _and was less concentrated. Arthur didn't have any more of a chance to ponder the strange experience since the other decided to break the silence.

"Dude, if you wanted to feel my abs you could've just asked instead of pretending to bump into me like that," was spoken with a wide grin.

Arthur's eye twitched. _So he is as bad as Francis, and if my current emotional state is anything to go by, I'd say this boy is even worse. Who knew that was even possible?_

"Don't flatter yourself, I'd hardly call those 'abs'. Now watch where you're going, fat-arse."

"I'm not fat! You dickhead!" the boy replied hotly, obviously Arthur had struck a chord. "And my name is Alfred, so don't call me mean names!"

"Oh well done, lad. You truly are quick with the comebacks, but that's neither here nor there. I have more important things to worry about than dealing with your immaturity. Kindly stay away from me from now on." With that, Arthur turned on his heel and briskly walked down the hallway.

"No problem! I don't want to be near you anyway!" Alfred shouted after him, as Arthur slowly felt that warm emotion start to fade the farther away from Alfred he got.

The two could not seem to get a break from each other after that. Scornful glares were directed and hurtful words were strewn whenever the two boys happened to meet. Which was often. Almost like they couldn't be apart for too long.

And still every time Arthur was in Alfred's presence, that same heated, churning emotion would emerge and he would attempt to quell whatever strange things were happening to his body since he was still unsure of what it meant and how he should go about managing it effectively.

After almost two months after their initial meeting, Arthur had the misfortune of accidentally harshly bumping into Alfred again in the hallway, yet this time there was no hesitancy before one of them pushed the other in a scathing display of anger. Fists started to fly and no doubt there would be bruises and injuries the next day to attest for the damage from the fight.

After about five minutes of each boy attempting to overpower the other, Arthur ended up being slammed into the lockers behind him, with Alfred's arms securing him and his teeth bearing in a fuming sneer. Arthur started to struggle out of his hold so Alfred pressed his entire body flush up against Arthur's, so that their chests were touching, save for the thin material of their shirts. As soon as their bodies met perfectly, it felt as if there was an explosion of warmth, and there was undeniable pleasure coursing through the connection of their bodies.

Alfred's eyes rolled back as he let his weight drop onto Arthur, who was still sandwiched between the wall of lockers and Alfred. Arthur himself began to exhale quickly. His mind and body screamed at him to gain more of this amazing feeling, so he grabbed onto Alfred's shirt to bring him closer, if that were even possible. Alfred broke out of his haze and brought his hands up to Arthur's face and proceeded to soundly kiss Arthur with such passion and devotion that Arthur couldn't believe they had waited so long to do this. Deep in their minds, they both finally realized exactly what emotion they felt whenever they were around each other.

When they finally broke off, Alfred brandished an expression of clear happiness and relief.

"Oh god…I'm so glad I wasn't the only one to feel this way! You have no idea how hard it was for me to try to pretend like I actually wanted to stay away from you!"

"I think I have an idea," Arthur replied, voice brimming with unmasked joy. "Love can do crazy things to a person, you know."

"Love. Damn," came the thoughtful response, "Can we never be separated again so this feeling will never end?"

Arthur smiled wider. "I believe we can arrange that."


	22. July 22nd, 2014

July 22nd, 2014 - It's All About Technique

**AUTHOR: **SillyKwado

**July 22nd, 2014 - It's All About Technique**

Most marching band members love the competitions – the hush of the audience, the glaring of the stadium lights, and the ability to show what you've been working on all season. Most people even look forward to these competitions. Not Alfred.

His favorite thing about marching band is the practices. The practices that are two and a half hours after school every day in the sweltering sun. The practices where you run-through the marching basics for a half hour and you may not even get to play any music for the rest of the day. The practices where the band director practically yells at you half of the time.

Nevertheless, Alfred looks forward to them, and only for one reason: the totally hot drum major, Arthur Kirkland. Drum majors are the band students who conduct the marching band during performances and are basically the leaders of the band.

Alfred especially loves to see Arthur during practice. He's always running around trying to help freshmen with their technique or setting the form. He's starting to tan where he hasn't burned and he sometimes has this cute smudge of sunscreen on his face that Alfred never tells him about. And then there are his clothes: a well-fitting t-shirt and short shorts. Like really short. He's too innocent to know about them but it sure does make Alfred sweat a little bit more.

Of course, Arthur doesn't even know he exists. Sure, they're both Juniors and Arthur knows Alfred's name, but that's really all he knows. The band is too big and they're from different sections. Alfred plays trumpet while Arthur is the best alto sax player he's ever heard. The things Arthur can play with that instrument… and beautifully too. Alfred was saddened at first when he learned that Arthur was going to be a drum major this year instead of playing his sax, but then Alfred saw him conduct.

Alfred _really_ liked how Arthur conducts. Especially when Arthur puts his hands up above his head for count 4, sometimes his shirt will ride up just a little.

He really liked to have the drum major's attention, even if it was as little as telling Alfred to move to the right one step. Lately, he's figured out a way to receive some of Arthur's attention.

He's been purposefully messing up his marching technique and missing his spots, only during the practices mind you, just so Arthur could come over and correct him. Even though, he's actually one of the best marchers in the band. Alfred's a bit disappointed when the other drum major, Roderich, would come over rather than Arthur, but he won't be discouraged.

Today, Alfred had been rather unsuccessful at gaining Arthur's attention though. The drum major had been mainly focused on the 8 freshmen clarinetists at the other side of the field, so he hadn't been able to really see Alfred "mess up".

Alfred noticed Arthur looking his way so he quickly changed his marching to where he was practically scuffing his feet against the pavement. Arthur definitely saw Alfred this time but he disappointingly went back to the woodwinds. Why didn't he tell Alfred off for messing up his technique again!? Alfred pouted.

The rest of the day was just like that. Every time Alfred messed up his marching or had the wrong horn angle, Arthur would just ignore him!

By the end of practice, Alfred was fully discouraged and worn out. After a few announcements, the band was dismissed and Alfred started to make his way back to the band room.

"Alfred," came the accented voice of the drum major. Alfred spun around quickly putting on a genuine smile.

"Hey, what's up?" Alfred asked.

"I've been noticing lately that your marching technique seems to be declining even with my help," Arthur said raising an eyebrow at Alfred who just nervously chuckled. "So, I think extra practices might be needed."

"Extra practices?" Alfred repeated, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes, extra practices," Arthur said. "We can begin anytime you'd like, but the sooner the better."

"'We'?" Alfred asked with a head tilt.

"Yes, 'we'. I'm certainly not going to let you practice those horrible techniques on your own."

Alfred smiled. He'll get to spend more time with Arthur!

"And," Arthur continued. "The practices might run pretty late, so we'll have to get dinner afterwards… and possibly a movie. You'll be paying for those of course." Arthur was looking away now with a furious blush on his cheeks.

Alfred was stunned into silence for a moment. Did Arthur ask him out? Then Arthur nervously glanced at Alfred. Yes, he totally did!

"You got it!" Alfred said with the biggest grin he's ever had.

"Great, then perhaps we should get started today," Arthur said with a small, embarrassed smile.

Alfred smiled even more. "Alright! But first, we should get something to eat! I know of a great diner nearby…" Alfred said while grabbing Arthur's hand to drag him along, their fingers intertwining. And Arthur let him.**  
**


	23. July 23rd, 2014

July 23rd, 2014 - How to Train Your Alfred

**AUTHOR:** Anonymous

**July 23rd, 2014 - How to Train Your Alfred**

Arthur stared at the dragon in shock and dismay. For as long as anyone could remember, all of the children in his elven village received dragons on their 16th Nameday. Arthur had been so excited he had barely slept the night before. He couldn't _wait_ to meet his dragon, up until the point when he had actually met his dragon. Arthur looked around at the older teenagers and eyed their dragons with jealously. Everyone else had received sleek creatures of stealth and beauty with sharp teeth and clever eyes.

And Arthur had received a tub of lard on legs.

The dragon waddled over to Arthur, his eyes bright blue and curious. He thumped his tail repeatedly on the ground, acting more like a happy dog than a companion fit for an elven warrior. Arthur sighed and shook his head, already imagining the taunts from the other teenagers about his silly puppy-dragon.

The dragon tilted his head to the side and made excited noises. He thumped his tail again and let a soft pink tongue roll out of his mouth, looking positively ridiculous.

"What sort of dragon _are_ you?" Arthur muttered as he tried to conceal his dismay.

The dragon waddled forward a few more steps and butted his head against Arthur's leg. He gave Arthur a beseeching look, clearly begging to be picked up and cuddled. Arthur sighed as he heaved the dragon up into the air. The creature promptly repaid his kindness by licking his cheek with a scratchy tongue.

"You are the _worst_ dragon ever," Arthur complained. Unfortunately, centuries of tradition meant that he had to keep this dragon. And he had to pick a name for him. Something that suited the elegance and splendor of his new companion. But as much as he tried, the only names that came to mind were insults like 'tubbo' and 'flabby'.

"Ahffra? Ahffra!" the dragon chirped insistently.

"Dragons don't normally make so many silly noises," Arthur replied, while the dragon continued to chatter. He paused a second as the dragon's nonsensical noises gave him an idea. It wasn't common to give dragons human names, but the usual sort of dragon names just didn't seem to suit this dragon. "Perhaps Alfred," he mused.

The dragon continued to chatter happily, which Arthur took as assent. He just hoped that his little dragon would grow up into something slightly less pathetic.

It didn't take long to discover that his dragon was incredibly lazy. While everyone else was training their dragons how to hunt and fight, Arthur was lucky if he could convince Alfred to play a game of fetch. Mostly Alfred ate and slept. Despite it all, Arthur found himself warming up to his sweet little dragon.

"Shall we play some fetch?" Arthur asked as they strolled together through the woods.

The dragon lifted his head and took off running deeper into the forest, moving faster than Arthur had given him credit for.

"Wait!" Arthur shouted. "I haven't thrown anything yet!"

He shoved his way through brambles and thickets, wincing as he ripped the edge of his sleeves on a branch. After a headless dash through the forest, he spilled out into a clearing and blinked in the sunlight as he tried to spot his dragon. Arthur saw Alfred at the same time that he noticed an old woman leaning over and cooing at his dragon.

"Come here, little one," she called to the dragon, offering Alfred a piece of food. She glanced up at Arthur and gave him a measuring look.

"Thank you, but he doesn't need more treats," Arthur said carefully, wanting her to back away from his dragon even though he knew it wasn't wise to anger strange women in the forest. An old lady might look harmless, but many magical creatures wore disguises, and some were more dangerous than others.

She chuckled, her laugher sounding like a deep rumble in her throat. "He needs as much as he can eat. He's a growing dragon, aren't you!" she said, cooing at Alfred.

The dragon looked back and forth between them, confusion in its eyes. Alfred took a few steps toward the lady with the treats and Arthur felt his heart drop. He had grown fond of the tubby little dragon, but there was no chance he could convince his dragon to turn away from someone with tasty food. Feeling dejected, he bent down and wrapped his arms around his knees. Everyone had mocked him for his dragon, and now they were going to mock him for not having a dragon at all. Lost in a blue funk, it took him a second to notice the rough tongue licking his arm. "Alfred?" he asked, shocked that the dragon had come back to him.

He heard the woman sigh from across the clearing. "Very well, little one."

A moment later she disappeared in a flash of magic and Arthur tilted his head back to stare at the largest dragon he had ever seen. For her part, the dragon curved her neck to face him, staring at him down her long snout with deep blue eyes and sending a clear message that she expected him to take good care of Alfred before she flapped enormous wings and lifted herself easily into the air.

Arthur picked his jaw off the ground, suddenly feeling much better about his dragon. Alfred was lazy and flabby because he was just a baby! The elf picked up the dragon and cradled him gently, promising to take care of him. Of course, he needn't have worried. The next time they played fetch, Alfred decided to use an entire tree trunk as the stick.

_[Credit to starvingfartist's post for inspiration! post/85775829755/anonymous-asked-you-arthur-and-his-pet-dragon]_


	24. July 24th, 2014

July 24th, 3014 - Rock and Roller

**AUTHOR: **last-haven

**July 24th, 2014 - Rock and Roller**

"So, are you coming to the show tonight?"

Alfred was glad that Winston, his and Arthur's bulldog, took that moment to toss one end of his pull toy into Alfred's lap. With a loud cackle, Alfred grabbed the offered end and began to play with the half grown pup. It gave him the perfect excuse to not answer right then.

Did he honestly want to go to Arthur's gig? Did he want to drag home a drunk Arthur, yowling like a cat in heat as he sang some decrepit pop ballad? He always came home drunk because each show as always a disappointment; only their twenty or so loyal roadies came to their show willingly, the rest would be the unfortunate patrons of whatever bar the band manager had managed to bully or sucker the bar owner into letting them perform. Did he want to be bored the rest of the night pretending to nod along while covertly playing games on his phone?

But on the other hand, did he want Arthur to get so smashed that he'd harass their neighbors trying to remember which door was theirs? Did he want to see his boyfriend moping for the rest of the week, feeling jilted and then spiteful in turns?

Arthur sighed on the other end of the line. "Look—you don't have to stay long if you got work, but at least come for a bit?"

Alfred's heart sank; he felt like kicking himself. "Give me twenty minutes so I can talk Ludwig into looking after Winston for awhile."

His boyfriend's tone instantly perked up. "Ludwig loves dogs, it won't take that long."

"Yeah, probably. See you in a bit." He turned off his phone and let himself sigh. He looked down at Winston. "Well, buddy, I guess I should pick up something for the migraine I'll be having at the end of the night." Winston shook his whole back end with glee.

After finagling with Ludwig to take Winston in for the night, Alfred went back for his coat and then left the apartment. Kicking a stone, he thought back to what had made him fall in love with a hopeless rocker like Arthur.

It hadn't been Arthur's charm and good looks—well, Arthur was an unconventional kind of handsome with his short stature, straw-like hair, and caterpillar eyebrows. He had been drunkenly brandishing a bottle at a man the first time Alfred saw him. Once Alfred found out that Arthur was only trying to help one of his fans fend off the unwanted advances of an asshole, he'd warmed up to him enough that he'd agreed to come to one of his concerts. He ended up missing it, which was probably for the best since it would have only killed any kind of interest he'd had then, but they had hooked afterward anyway.

No, looking at it, Alfred hadn't fallen for him until after they'd had sex. They were lying in bed, mumbling about nonsense until they'd hit on the subject of the future. Suddenly, Arthur snapped to with a fire and vivacity that made Alfred sit up and listen. By the time Arthur trailed off, a little embarrassed by his own enthusiasm, Alfred was already besotted.

Alfred was a person going somewhere with his own dreams; what he wanted most was someone with ambitions of their own that could relate. Not like Alfred's parents who'd laughed at his dream to be a photographer until he slapped down a National Geographic magazine with his pictures on the inside. Maybe Arthur's band wasn't ever going to go anywhere, but at least he was trying.

By the time he'd reached the bar, he was running for the door, eager to find Arthur. When the door swung open, he paused—for the first time in, well, most likely since the band gotten together the entire bar was full. The usual roadies were there, but Alfred didn't see anyone at the instruments. Had they finished early, or were they taking a break? Stranger still, looking at the crowd, Alfred recognized many of the people there—friends, coworkers, Matthew and his wife, and most shockingly, Arthur's siblings who were, last Alfred knew, supposed to be halfway across the globe.

Before he could spot Arthur, someone caught sight of him and let out a cheer. Gilbert at the bar waved him over to a knot of people who welcomed him with cheer and thumps on the back. "Look who finally dragged his ass to the party," Gilbert grinned.

Alfred shot a look at the crowd around them. "Is it someone's birthday?"

Erzsébet giggled, ignoring Alfred's confused glance. "Something like that."

Gilbert laughed as he walked away. "I'll let Kirkland know you're here." Alfred frowned after him, but he had no time to ask what was up before a friend swung an arm around his shoulders and dragged him to find some more of their friends.

Ten minutes passed, but each time he tried to untangle himself to find Arthur, someone ambushed him. The crowd was growing nearly as restless as Alfred by the time Arthur and his band got back to the stage. Alfred beamed when he saw Arthur shamble towards the microphone, but then frowned when the band started playing a pop song.

"Why are they playing that? Arthur hates that song," Alfred murmured, cocking his head to the side.

Matthew choked on his drink while Yekaterina beamed.

Frowning at them, he turned back to see that Arthur had hopped off the stage and was walking towards him. Alfred smiled, both amused and bemused. That smile slipped off his face as Arthur fumbled with a box in his pocket, presenting Alfred a simple gold band when he finally got the box open.

"I wanna marry you," Arthur finished crooning. His smile was shaky but warm.

Shaking his head, Alfred knocked the mic and ring aside as he pulled his fiancé in for a kiss.


	25. July 25th, 2014

July 25th, 2014

**AUTHOR:** Anonymous

**July 25th, 2014**

They weren't perfect.

Some days Alfred scattered coffee grounds on the counter and floor in his rush to get to work, and Arthur woke up to step in the mess, track it across the floor, and stain his socks. That always pissed him off.

Some days Arthur would be spacey, off in some daze as he tried to think up the plot for a chapter. It drove Alfred insane because on those days he couldn't so much as ask Arthur to run out for a loaf of bread. He didn't answer his phone, was unreliable, and left mugs of half drank tea _everywhere_.

Some days Alfred came home, dumped his sweaty gym clothes in the middle of the living room and fell asleep on the couch. Arthur though it was disgusting no matter how cute Alfred looked as he slept.

Arthur would leave water on the bathroom floor after his shower, getting Alfred's socks wet when he went to the bathroom late at night.

Alfred would watch tv, keeping Arthur up for hours on end, then bemoan the fact he was tired as he stumbled around noisily in the morning.

Arthur was too picky about his clothes, rewashing them all if they weren't just so. He made Alfred do the exact same with his clothes, though there was bound to be mistakes from time to time.

Some days it all got to be too much, and they would snap at each other. And rarely, it would turn into an argument that ended it each leaving to go and try to cool off.

But those days weren't common, and as Alfred lay there and slowly combed his fingers through Arthur's hair, he and his sweetheart snuggled in bed together, he knew that no matter what argument they may have it would never spoil this. Coffee grounds or wet bathroom floors, nothing could spoil the sweetness of Arthur's kisses, pressed against his lips or cheek. It couldn't spoil the loving looks Alfred gave, making Arthur feel like he was the only man in the world that Alfred had ever looked at. And maybe that was it, maybe that was why they loved so much. They didn't have to work hard, but they also didn't let their petty differences get in the way of the feelings they shared for one another and how much they could love. And maybe the fact that it was real, not the stuff and fluff of fairytales was what made this love, these lazy Saturday mornings in eachother's arms, so much more satisfying. Because it was real, not perfect.


	26. July 26th, 2014

July 26th, 2014 - For Charity

**AUTHOR: Midnight-Run-inthe-Rain**

**July 26th, 2014 - For Charity **

When Arthur approved of Elizaveta's idea for collecting funds for a charity by hosting a game show for the entire campus, he did not think he would end up hosting such show.

"Come on, 'Take Me Out' is totally a British thing, you've got to do it," she was almost begging as the charity game show night was quickly approaching.

"It's actually Australian," the student body president of the university was quick to parry.

Elizaveta would not back down, however, "Fine, fine, but you're the only one that has a nice suit. It makes sense for you to host it, seeing as you're also the head of CSG, charming, and your accent is a plus. You're either hosting this damn thing or you're participating with the other guys." By the time she finished her threat, their foreheads met and her eyes glared into his. Left with no alternative, Arthur agreed, claiming he needed another excuse to wear his suit again.

And it was a nice suit. It was all black with a jade button up shirt and black tie, tailored to his form and complimented him beautifully. Most of the girls were even disappointed he wasn't going to pick one of them to take out on a date. They were not disenchanted for long, however, as the lineup of some of the most popular men at their university took their place alongside Arthur to pick a girl.

The show was running fairly smoothly until Arthur revealed the last man to walk across the stage after so many couples have been found. The girls lined up were normally very encouraging as the guy strutted in front of them when introduced, however the entire auditorium seemed to go wild when Alfred F. Jones danced to Adam Lambert's Fever across the stage. When everyone finally quieted down to be able to hear his introduction, Arthur laughed into his microphone.

"Alright ladies, you know the drill by now. If you like what you see, keep your card green; if you don't want a piece of Alfred, flip your card to red." And after no one moved to red, the emcee laughed once more, causing Alfred to grin even brighter. This was the first time many of the students ever heard Arthur react with such amusement. "Well that's a first, but I can't say I'm all that surprised. Even Francis and Antonio had at least one girl deny them. Let's ask some of them, why they fancy you so." He walked over to a short haired blonde named Lilly and asked her.

Shyly, she ducked her head down, and spoke into Arthur's outreached microphone. "Alfred's just so nice. One time I had broken my ankle and the elevators in my residence hall weren't working, so I began to slowly make my way up to the third floor. Alfred happened to walk by and offered to carry me up and did so every time he saw me."

The audience cooed collectively as Arthur rose an eyebrow at him and whistled, making him blush. "What a gentleman." He briefly asked other girls whom gave similar responses about the man's kindness and a few even mentioned his sex appeal which received catcalls from the other girls and audience.

"Amazing Jones," Arthur continued, walking back up to Alfred and making him gulp. "A saint and supposed sex god. I didn't know that about you." He winked at him, having no clue why he did so, but he did. Luckily, it seemed to encourage the crowd even more. "Let's see if the video helps you narrow down your choices."

Behind the girls appeared a screen on which a previously recorded video of Alfred was shown. He spoke of his hobbies, which only encouraged prior statements about him, academic aspirations, and life goals, but at the end admitted that he was reluctant to date again.

"I've had a crush on this person for such a long time, but I can't seem to even ask my crush out because my esteem had taken a big blow. A previous girlfriend had cheated on me and admitted she was bored of me," Alfred on the screen confessed.

The audience was in an uproar at such a crime, but quickly quieted down to finish the rest of the small clip. "So aside from my downtrodden self-esteem sometimes, I guess I'd say my other bad qualities are my love of fast food, horror films, and I can be really loud and obnoxious. Do you think you can handle all of me?" Both of the Alfreds, on stage and on screen, gave looks of such innocent hope, but only the girls on stage saw that look directed at Arthur.

They began to whisper to each other as Arthur spoke about Alfred's redeeming qualities outweighing his bad ones. "So how's it going to be ladies?"

What happened next stunned the audience and disappointed the two men before them. One after another, the girls flipped their cards to red, claiming they didn't want Alfred to choose any of them. He went from complete approval to immediate rejection in the matter of one video, possibly annihilating whatever high esteem he had left.

"What?! Why, ladies? Why?" Arthur felt outraged and protective of Alfred. Here the man was ready to try dating again, but the girls refuse him even after having such high praise of him minutes before. "Michelle, could you enlighten me?"

She grinned with no trace of malice as she said, "I don't want a guy who already has his eyes on someone. You should just ask him out already, Alfie."

"Him?" Arthur questioned, sending the other girls confused looks as they all nodded in agreement. "This seems to be a turn of events now, doesn't it… Al..fred?" He turned away from the girls to find his last contestant walking towards him and taking a hold of his hand.

"Arthur?" He gulped, "Will you go out with me? I-I mean, I completely understand if you don't want—"

But he didn't finish what he was about to say because Arthur kissed him. It was very small and brief, but it said a lot. He turned back to the crowd, now scarlet. "It seems that this is our conclusion of our first segment of Take Me Out. Thank you to our lovely girls and guys participating in this event and don't forget to donate!"

Off stage, Arthur scolded Alfred for taking such a huge risk on stage, but admitted he had crushed on him as well. "How did you know the girls were going to do that?"

Alfred shrugged, enjoying having the other in his arms. "I didn't, Elizaveta just asked me to participate, said she'd handle everything, and even paid my entrance fee.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Typical of Elizaveta.


	27. July 27th, 2014

July 27th, 2014 - Groceries

**AUTHOR:** americanised

**July 27th, 2014 - Groceries**

It seemed that Arthur's terrible luck did not apply solely to his eyebrows, but also to his rather impressive knack at always picking the shopping carts with a wonky third wheel. He did his best to guide it a straight line, but the cart had a mind of its own and kept twisting this way and that.

"I should just choose the carts from now on," teased Alfred, who walked beside him.

Arthur grunted noncommittally in response. "Whatever. We'll make this quick, since we don't need much anyway. What was first on the list?"

Alfred, who held the list, glanced at it. "'Whole-wheat bread'." He made a face. "You ate that and enjoyed it? I thought you bought it by accident."

Arthur flared. "Yes, I did! What's wrong with it?!" They turned into the carbohydrates aisle.

"The fact it tastes like crap."

"Oh, shut it! You're not one to talk about what tastes right or not." Arthur slowed as he searched for the brand he had liked. "I've seen you eat things that would make Paula Deen gag."

Alfred's cheeks flushed pink and he huffily looked away, mumbling something about how Arthur enjoyed McDonald's as well so he shouldn't talk smack, either.

"What's next?" Arthur asked politely after putting a loaf of bread in the cart.

"My poptarts. They should be further down."

"I don't know how you can stand those. It's like biting straight into a sugar cube, except the inside is gooey."

"Your taste isn't as refined as mine," Alfred haughtily replied, lightly tossing two boxes of the treats in the cart. They moved on. "We need eggs now."

"Already? But we bought two cartons last week!"

"Yeah but between all the eggs I eat, and all the ones you use when you try to bake, we pretty much ravage them."

"Ah." He could feel his cheeks getting warm.

Alfred laughed and pecked his fiance's cheek. "Aw, it's ok! We're probably singlehandedly saving the chicken farmers, and you learn something new each time you attempt to make food and instead summon the devil!"

Arthur smacked him for that.

So they went, going from section to section of the market, picking up what they needed, stopping to bicker and tease each other and laugh. By the time they got to the sixth item on the list (_'healthy snacks Alfred will actually eat'_), what should have been a quick fifteen-minute trip had extended to forty five minutes. Slowly, their cart filled up, some of it foods Alfred had been spontaneously tempted to buy, as it happened every week; at this point in their relationship, Arthur knew it was useless to argue against Alfred trying something new. But honestly, it was worth the extra dollars when there was an item Alfred loved: his face would light up at the discovery, and he would go on and on to Arthur about how tasty it was, and that he should try it, and how happy he was Arthur had let him buy it.

Arthur turned to look at the person he was to marry soon, but he in turn was engaged in a furious staring contest between two different brands of chips. He smiled. Yes, it was worth it.


	28. July 28th, 2014

July 28th, 2014 - A Little Scientific Love

**AUTHOR:** Khor Wei Wen

**July 28th, 2014 - A Little Scientific Love**

Alice was bored. Very bored. _I don't belong here__._ She mentally thought, propping her head on one hand, she scanned the crowd in front of her. Participants were scurrying around preparing their booths to be presented when the competition starts. Turning her head, she looked at her teammates, Sakura and Kiku, twins, tinkering about their invention.

_Why am I even here again?_ She wondered. _Oh, right. They needed another student to participate in this competition._ _It was a requirement to have 3 students. _"Stupid rules and requirement." She grumbled under her breath, catching the attention of the twins.

"Ah, Alice-san, are you bored? We're sorry to have you involved in this when you study arts." Kiku voiced out, face worried and the effect passed on to Sakura who continued the statement. "We promise to make it up to you once this competition is over. We are really grateful that you were willing to participate this with us when no one else wanted to, we owe you." Her voice laced with guilt and sincerity.

Alice instantly regretted grumbling and quickly reassured them. "No, no. I'm fine. I'm the one who should be honored to be able to participate in this competition. After all we are the only ones in our school who managed to qualify into the finals and it's all thanks to you both. I'm the one who should be sorry for burdening you both because I do not have much knowledge in the science, I feel like a freeloader for not being to help out." Fiddling with the hem of her uniform, Alice smiled at them sheepishly.

Both twins widened their eyes simultaneously at her statement in which Sakura replied " Oh no Alice! You are not a burden! You have helped us a lot! Without you we won't be able to write such good reports and with your art skills you produced the nicest looking poster we have ever see!" Kiku nodded in agreement while pointing towards the poster set up by Alice earlier. "It's really beautiful and detailed, it is sure to capture the attention of the judges later." He added.

_These two are too nice and polite to get mad at._ Alice thought as blushed at the compliment. "Well thanks. It's not much, it's the only thing I could do as an art student." She chuckled softly. "Speaking of the poster, I'm going to check if there is anything missing. Go on with the invention guys, don't mind me." She smiled at them reassuringly, causing them to relax and went back to their invention.

Alice walked to the poster and stared at it, scanning for any mistakes. She was rather proud at her artwork; she had made it as a pop out, giving it a 3D-effect and making it to stand out among the other posters set up beside hers. She also added the right combinations of colours so that it was able to catch the attention of the judges. _I hope we win; Kiku and Sakura had put so much effort in their invention. _Alice thought. Letting out another sigh, she remembered how she felt so out of place in the meet-and-greet session with the other participants. How she was so clueless when they were discussing in scientific terms; She remembered the look on their faces when she told them her ambition was to become a fiction author, it was the look of confusion and the look of why-are-you-even-here-if-you-were-an-art-student. She really hated it when people judged her.

_I will help the both of them as much as I can so that their efforts won't be in vain. _She silently promised herself, determined to do the best she can. _Then I'll show them, an art student can also win something science related._

"Hey are you Fluoride, Iodine and Neon? Cause you are just FINE." A loud voice cut through Alice's thoughts as she turned around and found herself staring straight at a boy grinning from ear-to-ear.

He had blonde hair with a piece of hair that seemed to defy gravity and bright blue eyes that hid behind the wall of his glasses perched on his nose. _What in the world is he talking about?_ When Alice didn't reply him, his smile flattered a bit.

"Aw man, you don't get it? It's the symbols of the elements. F for Fluoride, I for Iodine and Ne for Neon, put them together and you'll get F-I-N-E, fine!" he exclaimed "Getit?" he grinned, flashing his pearly whites at her.

_Oh so that's what he meant._

_Wait._

_Did he just try to woo me by telling me a pick-up line?_

_Did he just try to woo me by telling me a science related pick-up line?_

"Did you just try to woo me by telling me a science related pick-up line?" Alice questioned out loud, echoing her thoughts without thinking first.

The boy in question had turned into a light shade of pink as Alice's question was directed at him. "Well…um…yeah. You see I'm trying to make some friends since I missed the meet-and-greet session and so far everyone's busy with their invention and have brushed me off. And then I saw you standing there yourself and I wanted to talk to you but didn't know how to approach you. So I told myself 'Hey this is a science competition, surely she's a science person so why not use a science pick-up line?' and here I am, obviously thinking that it had been a bad idea, should have gone with the normal greeting." He blabbered out, taking a deep breath as he finished his ramble and braced for Alice to laugh and mocked him for being so lame.

He got it half right.

Alice giggled. "Hmm. That was a good one, but sorry to burst your bubble I'm not a science student, I take arts, that's why you don't see me rushing about with the inventions, my teammates are taking care of it." She said, lips curling into a bitter smile waiting for the boy to look down at her and walk off.

However the boy grinned even wider. "Really? That's cool! So I'm guessing this poster is yours since it stands out the most?" he exclaimed while pointing towards Alice's poster.

Shocked by his response, Alice could only nod mutely and he continued his rambling. "Woah, sweet! I love it! Hey since you said yourself you don't know much about science then let me bring you around and explain to you some of the inventions! You can even see mine! How about that?"

Alice pondered at the offered. _We'll, since I have nothing to do might as well hang out with someone who is willing to._ "Alright, but don't go too fast or I might be able to catch up." Alice concluded.

"Sweet! The name's Alfred F. Jones! And I'll be your tour guide for today. Let's go!" Grabbing her wrist, laughing as he set off dragging Alice before she could even introduce herself. "Hold on you git! Don't go too fast! I might trip! And the name's Alice if you even bother finding out!" She exclaimed, causing Alfred to laugh louder, getting looks from the other participants. "There's not much time to waste! Let's go see mine first!"

They had a good time, Alice making snide remarks as Alfred explained to her how the inventions worked. Alice was introduced to Alfred's teammates, a South Korean boy with the same hyper attitude like Alfred and Alfred's twin brother who is the exact opposite of Alfred. She felt sorry for the boy for having to deal with two hyperactive teammates with the mind of five year olds. But when she told his twin, whose name was Matthew, he just laughed and replied, "They can be entertaining at times."

At the end of the competition, results were announced and to Alice's pleasant surprise her group had won first price as Alfred's came in third. Despite that, the boy was jumping with glee when receiving his prize.

As the competition came to an end, Alice went and bid goodbye to Alfred. But before Alice could walk away, Alfred slipped a piece of paper into her hand, gave her a wink and ran off to his teammates, leaving a confused Alice behind. She took a look at the piece of paper and read.

_You make my cardiac muscle pump blood through my vascular system really quickly. So call me! ;) 01X-XXXXXXX :D_

_ Alfred._

It took Alice two whole minutes before she understood what it meant and blushed deep red. Slipping the paper carefully into her breast pocket, she then walked off; face still red, but a small smile on her face.

_Maybe joining this competition wasn't so bad after all._


	29. July 29th, 2014

July 29th, 2014 - Just My Luck

**AUTHOR: **Harley-kun

**July 29th, 2014 - Just My Luck**

Teacher's assistant Arthur Kirkland's day couldn't have gone better, really. Although the amount of sarcasm on that statement is easily found, as this day is truly dreadful in every form of the word.

Arthur has always been subjected to the teasing of unruly American high school students, for his eyebrows, for his accent, for anything about the man that was possible to help distinguish him from a regular American. It would have been much better to be back in England with his family, even if they tease him in the same way, but upon coming to America for school, his parents said he wasn't allowed back until he got his degree in anything, so he settled on a degree in teaching and English literature, which really should be called American literature based on how many books he read written by Americans and not Englishmen.

He had moved to Kentucky for his degree, as his parents said that they have family here. They do apparently, a kind woman by the name of Sarah who has three children all by different men. His stay with Sarah has been pleasant, as Sarah isn't very loud and allows Arthur to do what he wishes on his own time, unlike his parents. Sarah lives in central Kentucky, only about thirty minutes away from his University, the University of Kentucky. He was surprised to actually see diversity in the college campus, as he met a woman named Elizabeta, from Hungary, and a man named Kiku, from Japan, on campus. Right now, though, he wasn't on campus, and was in a dingy high school in the Eastern part of the state. A little school called Knott County Central, which he detests with his entire being.

…

The teacher of the room, a nice and accepting woman by the name of Mrs. Johnson, has given me the sixth period class to teach on my own for the week. This would be my last week here, and then I can finally go back to University and get my grade for the semester. If everything went to plan, that is. Right now, the sixth period is just walking in, and I gave them all welcoming smiles. Some of them seemed to detest my presence, while others seemed eager to begin class. Some of them were already scribbling on their desks, those morons.

"Welcome, class, my name is Mr. Kirkland and I'll be teaching you for the week." I smiled to them all, getting bored stares from many and a couple wide eyed stares from a couple girls. "Now, for the first day, I'll start off with a couple questions about me. I've been in this class as a teachers aid for quite a while, but I haven't spoken much, so please go ahead. Just made sure to actually raise your hand and tell me your name before you speak." I went over the standard procedure easily and with a flat voice, still getting a couple whispers and laughs from the class. One hand went up, in the third row from the wall, second desk back, the kid most of them seemed to sit around. He was much too old to be in this normally sophomore class, which made me nearly cast a smirk his way, but I held myself back and pointed to him.

"I'm Alfred, just to let you know! Are you British? You seriously sound like it!" The boy, Alfred, nearly shouted, and I felt my arm twitch. Alfred has slightly wavy blond hair with a strange strand sticking out in the front, tan, sun kissed skin, his blue eyes the looking at me the upmost curiosity, and I sighed in his direction.

"Yes, I am indeed from England. I was born there, raised there, went to school there, and I was sent to this dreadful place to attend college. Now, any other questions before we move on?" I spat, not really caring about the shocked looks and glares from most of the student body I had just insulted. Alfred laughed, and he raised his hand again, and another girl in the back of the room raised her hand too. I pointed to the girl first, hoping she would have something worthwhile to ask.

"I'm Sami." The girl smiled. "I heard from someone that you're gay, Mr. Kirkland. Is it true?" Sami continued, and I nodded, knowing that they would most likely make fun of me for being homosexual. sami only giggled though, and I heard a muffled whisper of 'I told you so!' sprout from her. Nothing else was said, but Alfred still had his hand up, not putting it down even while Sami was asking her question. I pointed to him, but before he said anything, an announcement began just above my head, through the speaker system.

"Every teacher needs to lock their doors, people are trying to break into the building, I repeat, please lock your doors!" The principle of the school, a man by the name of Mr. Pauler, begged over the microphone before the clicking sound of it turning off sounded, leaving behind a deadly silence. The children in the room started the procedure easily, many grumbling about how stupid it was to have so many drills. I calmly walked over to the door, locking it gently before following the students against the wall that the door was also placed on, which concealed our location from anyone looking inside the door's window. Standing beside me is Alfred, from earlier, who chatter away with some girl beside of him, who only giggled and was obviously flirting with the boy. A loud laugh escaped the boy, and suddenly a loud slam was heard on the door, making every kid in the room stop ever ounce of conversation and stay silent.

"Nice try Pauler, you're not scaring me with that shit!" One of the boys, who had been sitting in the back of the room, laughed loudly, walking to the door, peering out the window. Upon seeing nothing, he unlocked the door.

"Stop! We're supposed to wait!" I scolded him, moving to him and jerking his hand away. The boy smirked as I reached again for the lock, using his free hand to jerk mine away, then used the same hand to open the door. The door swung open with the force the boy used, and he laughed loudly and looked to me with a large smile.

"See, nothing to worry about, Kirkland. Just Pauler trying to scare us!" The boy laughed, his southern accent dripping as he laughed. A loud growl was heard echoing through the halls, and the boy walked out of the room. I followed him, and I heard some of the rest of my class follow suit.

"Get back here, kid! You're going to get yourself hurt, idiot!" I yelled after him, grabbing his arm as he went. The boy kept moving, and I found myself following, my curiosity getting the best of me. Screw the rules, I guess. The boy then screamed as he looked down the stairwell, and I saw a grey looking man with nearly no hair and ripped up skin look up the stairs at us upon hearing the noise. I released the boy's arm, letting out a loud groan of discomfort and fear before running off back into the classroom with a hand over my mouth, pushing through the sea of students that had followed me, most of them saying how cool that guy looked dressed up like that. The putrid smell came to my senses, and upon entering my classroom, I saw that only Alfred still stayed in the classroom. I slammed my classroom door, the scent of death and decomposition still filling my nose.

"Hey, teach, what's going on?" Alfred questioned, now sitting in the plush teacher's chair, spinning around in the front of the classroom without a care, a dopey smile on his face. I stuttered and kept my back against the door. I looked out the window of the door, seeing most of the students running away from the scene, none of them bothering to try and come into the classroom. Alfred walked up to me from behind, a small squeak coming from the chair as he did so, and looked out the window from over my shoulder. Just then, another of my students passed by the door, looking just as dead as that man from before, his eyes grey and barely there.

"That's going on, Alfred." I whispered, feeling him grip my shoulders from behind.


	30. July 30th, 2014

July 30th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **actualcanadian

**July 30th, 2014**

"Alfred F Jones!"

The voice was deeply angered and Alfred winced as his girlfriend walked into their apartment, almost slamming the door behind her. Alice Kirkland was already scary enough with her caterpillar eyebrows and her usual glare from behind half-moon glasses. But pregnant Alice Kirkland could make a grown man run for his mother.

Oh shit. _Oh __shit. Oh shit.  
_  
Hoping he hadn't done anything too stupid, Alfred stepped into the kitchen where Alice was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, her long blonde hair tied back into a tight ponytail and her brows furrowed as per usual. Luckily, she hadn't thrown any plates yet so she wasn't in an ultimate-fury mood. At least, she wasn't yet.

She gripped the counter hard and her look of anger turned to one of pain. "I fucking called you_ twice__!_" she said between clenched teeth. "_Twice__!_"

Alfred sheepishly ran a hand through his hair, not noticing the pain etched on her face as he shrugged a bit and looked at his feet. "Yeah well Mattie kinda called and he just bought Portal 2 so I was teaching him how to…you know…play the game…"

"So while you and your brother were sitting around playing video games, I was trying to call you to tell you that I might just be going into _labor_ at the office!" she said, her eyes shut tightly. "And have been for _three fucking hours,_ Alfred Jones!"

If there is _one thing_ you don't do, its neglect your very pregnant girlfriend's phone calls when she's in the third trimester, especially not during the week she's due. This is a little lesson Alfred learned the hard way. Of course, his sudden panic caused him to kind of forget the lesson for the time being, more preoccupied with the fact that yes, his girlfriend was going into labor and, _yes_, he was going to be a father by the end of the day.

"Well don't just stand there!" She said between deep breaths, leaning against the counter as the pain subsided for a moment. "Be happy the contractions have still got a few minutes between them. If they didn't, I'd have given birth at the office."

He nodded, quickly leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek before running back to the bedroom. Baby bag, check. Diapers, extra clothing, baby bottles… Yes, they had everything. Oh shit, blankets. He spun around the nursery, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything before another cry of pain from the kitchen pulled his attention back. Whatever he had with him would have to do.

"Hey, hey it's alright, let's head downstairs slowly," he said as he strode across the checkered floor of the rather old fashioned kitchen, gently wrapping an arm around her waist as he helped her down the stairs, taking every step one at a time until they had made it to the first floor of the flat.

Alice couldn't take it anymore, stopping at the foot of the stairs to grip tightly at Alfred's arm. The American was completely unprepared for this. He didn't know how to deal with labor or birth or babies. Frankly, he was terrified as he rubbed her back, the fear more than visible in his blue eyes. "Hey, it's alright," he murmured as Alice laughed a little weakly, smiling a bit as she looked up at him, letting the sound of his voice calm her slightly. "You're a tough woman. You can do it."

"Thank you, bloody wanker," she said quietly as she waited for the pain to pass.

"Don't mention it."

…:..:…

The ride to the hospital was intensely stressful for all parties. The cabby barely spoke English and almost got lost while Alice angrily muttered instructions through gritted teeth and Alfred watched helplessly. He couldn't do anything to ease her pain or anything to teach the cabby how to get there faster. The best he could do was sit and hope it would all go well, one hand sitting protectively over the baby bump.

"I'm a pretty shitty dad already, aren't I?" He sighed, his face against Alice's shoulder. If he'd picked up her calls would they already be there in the delivery room? If he'd been more careful, would this all had gone more smoothly? He should have prepared better…

The sound of Alice's light laughter beneath him eased his worries slightly. "You're doing fine, git."

…:..:…

"Push Alice, come on you can do it," he whispered to her as he kissed her sweaty forehead. "Just a bit more, honey. Promise."

Another push, another cry of pain from Alice's lips, another kiss pressed to her skin, before suddenly a second set of cries filled the room. This cry wasn't a full grown one like Alice's, one of the many she was trying to suppress. No, this one was different. It was sharper, less controlled… It was new.

"You have a lovely baby girl, Mr Jones and Miss Kirkland."

"You did it, Miss Kirkland," Alfred whispered with a soft chuckle as he lightly nuzzled her sweaty hair. "You did perfectly."


	31. July 31st, 2014

July 31st, 2014 - Fade

**AUTHOR: **accioharo

**July 31st, 2014 - Fade**

When America left him, when the war was over and the treaty was signed and the young colony, nay, nation was fully and completely no longer his, England's grief was such that sleepless nights plagued him for years.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat, sandy hair caked to his forehead and breaths shallow and hoarse as he attempted to control his racing heartbeat. And sitting up in bed, he'd massage above his eyebrows and shake his head, a mantra of 'no, no, no' crossing his lips as he spoke into the empty darkness.

It was on those nights, that he'd dream of what scared him most.

Other nights conjured up visions of America leaving him, of a rain soaked battlefield and a surrender, of tears he'd failed to hide, and of a declaration of freedom. Sleep would also bring him dreams of sunlit days, shared with a boy that had eyes as bright as a new world sky. Those should have been better dreams, but sometimes, they hurt even more than the ones of the war. Knowing he'd never be able to create memories like that again left a deep ache within his heart, his very soul.

But those dreams, while they caused him to toss and turn and sometimes to wake up and need a cup of tea, weren't the ones that frightened him into cold sweats and an inability to sleep for the rest of the night.

In his worst nightmares, America would fade.

The young nation would simply not make it, unable to maintain a solid government, unable to retain his people, splitting off into many nations. Invaded even, perhaps. He'd seen and heard of so many young nations, kingdoms; so many of them not make it, merely to fade away into the annals of history.

It was nothing unusual. It happened often, and it was just a part of all things. Unless you were a nation, unless to you, the death of a nation, it's reformation into something else, meant the death of a person.

Nothing scared him more than America ceasing to exist.

America _dying_.

If he'd remained his colony, England would have never allowed that. He would have been safe, so very safe.

Sometimes he heard news of how much the new nation was struggling, with unity and with cooperation. And there were holdouts, former colonies hesitant to join the union. It frightened him.

It was always possible that even if the United States of America failed, America would live, renamed or much smaller or something else entirely, but still America at heart. But perhaps he wouldn't. And it was entirely likely that America would make it and do quite well for himself, become a strong nation, like England knew the indomitable boy was capable of. But there was always that small chance…

The idea that someday that sunny-smiling boy across the sea would no longer be there, replaced with someone else or even_ many_ someone elses, made him ill with premature anguish and guilt.

It was an ache and an anxiety that he lived with every day, clinging to news from across the Atlantic like a lifeline when it reached him. He welcomed the dawn of telegraphs and telephones and televisions, because it meant that there was little delay in said news. He could always keep on top of what was happening to the boy, even when he wasn't talking to him.

And it was during those decades of growth and commerce and technological miracles, with the dawn of a new era, a new century, that England finally began to relax.

—-

**1951**

A century and three quarters passed, and America, his boy from far away, was stronger than ever. He knew that there was never a point in time at which he could say he was 'safe', but damn if he wasn't relieved. He'd made it through the storm, and although there would no doubt be many more along the way, England had faith in America's resilience.

Everything with America was different now, but one thing that remained the same was how his birthday affected England's health. While certainly they'd worked past many of their issues and were once again extremely close, his body still weakened and his heart was still raw to the point of it being debilitating on that warm July day.

"Well, I should at least call him," England said, spinning the dial of the rotary phone.

"Hello?" America picked up after three rings.

"H-hallo," England replied, a slight shake in his voice.

"England?" America queried, and his tone carried a tinge of what sounded like hope.

"Oi yes, who else?" he answered. "I just wanted to say…."

"You should be here right now! The party is so amazing. It's pretty much the biggest party I've ever thrown," America interrupted. "It's a crime that my own boyfriend isn't even here."

"I'm not coming, America," England said curtly. "We've discussed this already." America expelled a dejected sigh. "But I wanted to say…" he took a deep breath, his heart beating heavily in his chest and his throat suddenly growing thick and dry, "I wanted to say… I'm glad that you…"

"England?"

"I'm so very glad that you made it."

"What do you…?" England could _hear_ the confusion.

"So many of us don't," he elaborated, his voice soft.

There was a lull on the other end of the phone, punctuated only by America's breathing and the sounds of celebration; music, voices, chanting, in the background. "Are you wishing me happy birthday?" America finally asked, a sly and teasing edge to his words.

"A-absolutely not!" England huffed. He cursed his reddening cheeks, even though America couldn't see them. "I mean I'm glad you made it as a nation, you git! I'm glad you didn't—-" he trailed off, voice nary above a whisper, "you didn't… fade away."

America's breath hitched, and then there was silence on the other end of the line. And England knew, knew that he understood. He may have been young, but he was far from ignorant of the dangers of nationhood. "You're bringing that up right now of all times?" America asked, and although his tone was teasing, there was an edge of nervousness to it. "You okay old man?"

England's cheeks reddened further, this time in anger. He clenched the receiver tightly. "Idiot! I'm being serious. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to say this, and today of all days?"

"Whoa, whoa calm down," America said. "Look, I'm sorry," his voice softened. "You're right. I know these things aren't easy for you."

England breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm also glad." He was almost whispering. "And I'm happy that you are as well." England's grip on the phone relaxed. "Thank you England, seriously. I do wish you'd come, but… this is enough for now."

"No problem," was England's short, nearly inaudible reply.

America let out a quiet chuckle. "You'll come someday. We have time."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yep. Because I'm not going away for a long time, and neither are you."

In spite of himself, England felt his eyes well up. "Yes. Q-quite right."

"There'll be no fading on my watch," America said, and England imagined him pumping his fist in one of his typical enthusiastic 'heroic' gestures.

"Idiot." A watery smile crossed England's lips as happy tears slid down his cheeks. "None on mine either."


End file.
